


Against All Odds

by shanniep



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, wolverine and co mentioned but only really in first chapter and in passing so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanniep/pseuds/shanniep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marilyn Major was a realist. She knew that realistically it was unlikely that she would find her soulmates during the war. She knew that realistically it was a possibility that one or both of her soulmates wouldn’t even make it through. And she knew that realistically even if she did meet her soulmates after the war was over, they’d grow old and die and leave her behind, forever young and forever alone.</p><p>So what happens when she finds them? And what happens when she finds out it’s the ever-famous Captain America and his dashing friend James ‘Bucky’ Barnes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a soulmate AU focusing on an OFC, Steve and Bucky in a polyamorous relationship. There will be the Avengers in the future, and some knowledge of X-men might help you (but definitely not necessary). 
> 
> This chapter is a prologue of sorts, and involves Wolverine and Sabretooth, and possible spoilers for their backstories. They're gone after this chapter though so don't worry! Hope you enjoy x

Marilyn Major was a realist. She knew that realistically it was unlikely that she would find her soulmates during the war. She knew that realistically it was a possibility that one or both of her soulmates wouldn’t even make it through. And she knew that realistically even if she did meet her soulmates after the war was over, they’d grow old and die and leave her behind, forever young and forever alone. It made her choice to join ‘Logan’ and his brother in his war efforts a hell of a lot easier.  
  
Logan and Victor were like her – mutants – and had lived almost as long as she had. They’d been together for some time now – since the last Great War. 27 years, and none of them had aged a day. While the boys ran off and played soldier, she hung back and acted as nurse, as even the thought of a woman on the front line put most men into shock – something she’d forever be bitter about, she knew. Logan would tease her about it until the day they died (whenever that might be), but he knew she was more than capable of taking down anyone that crossed her, man and woman and mutant alike.  
  
Marilyn often wished that the inky black letters sprawled down her ribs were in Logan’s scrawl. It would’ve made things a hell of a lot easier for them if it were – they both knew they’d live for centuries to come, and they would never have to worry about the other dying and leaving them alone for the rest of eternity. Logan had often wished the same. As fate would have it, no, neither of the sets of words donning her body were Logan’s (or Victor’s, for that matter, for which she thanked the Lord above). She knew that it was impossible – after all, her first mark had only appeared in 1917, and her second in 1918, so she knew her soulmates had been born this century, and Logan’s hadn’t even appeared yet. Still, she had wished. But Marilyn Major was a realist, and soon put a stop to those silly thoughts. Logan hadn’t, and often brought it up in the dead of night when Victor was God only knew where and had left the two of them alone.  
  
“Things would’a been so much easier, darlin’.” He had muttered one day, one hand lazily tracing the words across the right hand side of her body as she lay beside him, the other holding a cigar to his lips. She shot him a hard look; this was a conversation they’d had many times before.

“But it ain’t, Logan, and you know it.” She huffed before softening. “We can’t keep thinkin’ about what could’a been.” He didn’t reply, and they laid in silence for what felt like hours, content to just be in each other’s company. But all good things come to an end, and this moment came to an abrupt halt as Victor burst into the tent like a mad man, eyes set hard on her.  
  
“You gotta go.” Now, Marilyn didn’t like the man that Victor had become, not one bit, but that didn’t mean she didn’t trust him with her life. And if he said she had to go, then she knew she had to go. She got up immediately, starting to grab her things from around the tent without question. Logan, however, wasn’t willing to let her go so easily.  
  
“Victor, what the hell you mean she’s gotta go?” The mutant shook his head at his little brother, jaw set. He may not have liked the girl, but Logan did, and he knew this would hit him harder than anything the war had thrown at them yet.  
  
“Some of the fellas back there are getting antsy, sayin’ this ain’t no place for a woman and that they were gonna ‘make that girl learn her place’.” Logan’s eyes darkened at that – everyone knew what that meant, and they all knew that the men out there weren’t the sort to not follow through on a threat. “Besides, a couple of the guys have been getting real suspect of your healing abilities, darlin’. Apparently there’s no nurse out there like ya.” The woman snorted, the sound so unladylike it would’ve shamed an everyday dame all the way to an early grave. Marilyn had lived long enough not to care too much for manners, and was the furthest thing from a lady you could find.  
  
“Of course they did. Ya save a guy and the thanks ya get is a bullet in the back.” It may have been true that sometimes soldiers under her care made a miraculous recovery from a seemingly life-ending injury. Sometimes a man’s limb would make a full recovery after nearly losing it, or sometimes a bullet wound would heal in under a month. Sometimes men would go to sleep swearing they’d been shot, only to wake up to no sign of anything at all – only a nice nurse telling them they’d drank too much the night before and had fallen unconscious. Not one man had died under her care since she’d joined the troop. It was suspicious, to say the least, but the men were alive and well thanks to her and her abilities so the least they could do were keep quiet about any suspicions they may have had. But alas, apparently that was too much to ask.  
  
Logan wordlessly got up from where they had been laying and helped her gather the few possessions she had, and if Victor noticed that he slipped the girl one set of his dog tags as they worked silently together, then he didn’t say anything about it.  
  
“You find us, ya hear?” Logan told her as she finally stopped in front of him, bag slung over her shoulder and ready to leave. “You wait ‘till after the war and then you get your ass back to us. This’ll blow over soon and everythin’ will be back to normal.” He pulled her into a hug without waiting for an answer, and the woman let him, locking eyes with Victor over his shoulder. The oldest brother just nodded minutely, knowing exactly what she was thinking – nothing would ever go back to normal. They could feel it – this was the beginning of the end for them. Logan knew too, if the way he was crushing her body to his was any indication, but he could pretend. James ‘Logan’ Howlett was not an optimist, but sometimes you can’t help but hope.  
  
“I’ll see ya soon, Jimmy, don’t you worry about me.” The two friends separated, and proceeded to just stare at each other, trying to take the other in, hoping to remember because this was it. This was the end. Victor twitched in his place, knowing that if she didn’t leave soon it would be too late but also not wanting to break up this last goodbye. The two mutants noticed though and hesitantly nodded, eyes flitting to him for just a second before meeting each other’s again.  
  
“Be safe, kid.”  
  
“Back at ya, handsome.” And with a quick kiss to his cheek and a muttered ‘Thank you’ in his ear, she was gone, ducking out of the tent and disappearing into the shadows and out of the brothers’ lives. Forever. And if Logan’s heart broke a little bit inside, he didn’t mention it.


	2. Capture

Marilyn wasn’t entirely sure how she had ended up in France. She had been in Japan when she had left Logan and Victor, and somehow had ended up in rural France a month later. She didn’t mind too much – it wasn’t like she had actually had a destination in mind when she’d left the brothers in the middle of the night. For the past month she’d kept moving, never staying in one spot too long but helping out wherever she could. Her plan now was to make it across France and then hopefully catch a boat across the channel. Maybe she could find a US or an ally base in London and start again as a nurse for another camp, but that was an idea for future Marilyn to consider. For now, she focused on getting to England. She had long since hijacked a German truck and had managed to loot supplies from various camps she’d come across. And if history ever wondered who exactly had been responsible for the burning of such camps? Well, she was sure they would never find out.  
  
Her plans came to a screeching stop when she stumbled across a small, seemingly abandoned town in the middle of nowhere. Or, it would have seemed abandoned if the gut-wrenching screams coming from inside the crumbling walls of what seemed to be a church hadn’t alerted her to the presence of people in need. Without a second thought she’d jumped from the truck and was hurtling towards the church doors, wrenching them open and staring in shock at the scene before her.  
  
It seemed the entire town had crammed into this one building – the biggest building in town, she noted. Inside, it seemed everyone was injured. Blood covered the floor and the walls and any surface she could see. Very few people were up and about, and those that were able to walk were trying to help those that couldn’t in any way possible. The people who weren’t injured were visibly ill, obviously malnourished and dehydrated. The stench and the noise made her head hurt, but she grit her teeth and made her way inside, the door slamming shut behind her grabbing the attention of everyone present. Suddenly all those able were up and in a defensive position, some with pitchforks and stakes and whatever they could grab onto to defend themselves. She threw her hands up in the air immediately as a sign of peace.  
  
_“Who are you?”_ One man stepped forward, seemingly the healthiest out of all the townsfolk. French words spilled out of his mouth quickly, and suddenly Marilyn was thankful for all those years she had spent teaching herself the language. _“What do you want? Are you German?”_  
  
_“Sir, I am not German. I am American, I heard screams. I am a nurse, I can help you!”_ It seemed to gain his attention, but still he seemed wary, so she pressed on. _“My name is Marilyn Major, I have my dog tags under my shirt. I’m going to reach for them, okay?”_ Slowly, she lowered one hand to reach for her dog tags, fumbling for a second to make sure she didn’t grab Logan’s before pulling hers over her head and handing them to the man. He looked at them for a second, then back to her, before slowly nodding and lowering his pitchfork, all the other townspeople following suit.  
  
_“You can help us?”_ It was a woman who asked, and Marilyn looked over. She was wiping the brow of a young girl, no older than four. The girl’s arm was wrapped in what Marilyn could only assume was meant to be a sling.  
  
_“I can help, I have some supplies in the truck I… Acquired.”_ The man from before nodded, handing back her dog tags, and she quickly slipped them back over her head before talking. _“I should get to work right away. Please show me to those who need the most urgent help. Could someone grab the supplies from the truck outside?”_ Everyone seemed to kick into gear and suddenly she was being lead to the far end of the church. She could see right away that this is where people were being put to die. Everyone there would die without urgent medical attention. She set straight to work.  
  
Thirteen hours of stitching, bandaging, healing and medicating later saw Marilyn utterly exhausted. Almost immediately she had been forced to show the townspeople her abilities to allow her to save the life of an elderly man who suddenly entered cardiac arrest. The townspeople, though slightly suspicious, could not bring themselves to care – she was saving their lives, it didn’t matter to them how she did it. Sixteen hours after Marilyn’s arrival saw not one untreated injury left in the church – only illness from malnutrition and dehydration, but with the supplies Marilyn had brought that could soon be remedied over the next few days. Seventeen hours after Marilyn’s arrival saw the woman almost passed out on a straw bed in the back of the church, drained from using her abilities continuously for so long, to such extremes. But she knew it was no time for rest yet: she needed to know what happened, and she needed to know if they were safe. The man from before, Burk, sat beside her.  
  
_“What happened here, Burk?”_ The man hesitated before answering, scraping a hand through the grey whiskers that sat across his chin.  
  
_“The Germans came a week ago, in the night. We had nothing to protect ourselves. They were looking for someone, I think.”_ Marilyn nodded, having expected this answer. _“They got angry when they couldn’t find them.”_  
  
_“Do you know who they were looking for?”_  
  
_“Nah, they never said.”_ He stopped for a second, eyes wondering over the church, before continuing in a quieter tone. _“Half of them kept us in here whilst the others searched.”_ Marilyn didn’t say anything: she didn’t need to. Over the years she had come to know the many ways the Germans found to entertain themselves whilst standing watch – both in this war and the last, because some things never change. She knew first hand that sometimes you don’t need to relive those things.  
  
_“Miss, you should rest.”_ A slightly younger woman approached the two, breaking the reflective silence that had settled over them. The woman was at most twenty-five, and from what Marilyn could remember, was the mother of the young girl with a broken arm. They had spoken briefly as Marilyn had worked on the girl, mostly talking about the girl’s father – her soulmate – and how he’d shipped off to England to help with the war effort a few months before.  
  
_“Don’t worry about me, Ma’am. How is Annie?”_ She had treated the girl early into her sixth hour and had grown fairly fond of the girl. Logan had always teased her for her softness for kids, but she couldn’t help it – kids radiated an innocence that she couldn’t ignore, even in these times of war. It maybe didn’t help that her mutant abilities had expressed themselves when she was very young, so when her townspeople had found out she’d been stripped of that child-like innocence that most kids have. It explained her intense need to protect it in every child she encountered. It wasn’t like Logan was any better, but she’d never bring _that_ particular fact up to him.  
  
_“She is sleeping now, thank you.”_ Marilyn grinned and went to respond, but a noise reaching her ears had her shooting from her seat and on her feet in seconds.  
  
_“Everyone needs to get into the basement now! There are people coming!”_ The entire church jolted to life and suddenly Burk was herding people into the back, where a small wooden hatch had been yanked open and people were disappearing underneath. Marilyn was at the front of the church in almost seconds, door cracked open to try to get sight of whoever was approaching. Whilst she was not a feral mutant like Logan and Victor, her constant self-healing abilities had left all her senses hyperacute, and she had definitely heard the low rumble of approaching vans. Four black vans were crossing the countryside in the distance, speeding directly towards the town. By her estimates, they had two minutes until arrival.  
  
_“Burk! Get all the supplies down too. I got these from German camps, if they see them here there will be trouble.”_ The man nodded, barking orders at a group of other men who were helping people towards the hatch. The man himself made his way over to Marilyn as she closed the doors, looking around as the last few people scampered down the hatch with the last of the supplies and nodded, seemingly satisfied with what she saw. He turned to her.  
  
_“You need to come with us.”_  
  
_“I can’t. I need to distract them enough that they don’t look for you.”_  
  
_“You are not in any shape to protect yourself!”_  
  
_“I’ll be fine, now quick: go. Jam the hatch shut from underneath and don’t come back up until you’re sure it’s clear, you hear me? I don’t care what you hear, don’t come up until they’re gone.”_ He still didn’t look sure, so she soldiered on. _“You really going to leave your soulmate alone down there?”_ That seemed to get through to him as he finally nodded slowly.  
  
_“Thank you, my friend. Be safe.”_ And then he was gone, the hatch thumping shut behind him. Marilyn waited for the scratching of wood-on-wood as he jammed the hatch shut behind him before moving out of the church and to the gates of the town to wait for the inevitable. She knew that she was in no shape to actually hold back an entire troop of Germans. She’d been using her abilities non-stop for seventeen hours now, a new record for her, and before that she hadn’t stopped for at least two days (having wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and the last camp she’d encountered). At this point, she was barely able to stand on her own two feet. She knew that whatever happened when the Germans arrived would not work in her favour, but at the very least she could get them away from the townspeople. It would not be the first time the Germans had gotten their hands on her, and she doubted it would be the last.  
  
Soon enough, the vans surrounded her, and men in all black spilled from the vehicles. Black masks covered their faces and each held a large, glowing silver gun in their hands – all pointed towards her. She caught a glimpse of a red emblem on one of their arms, but it left her eyesight when the man jerked his gun towards her. Marilyn knew she was in trouble – these weren’t typical German uniforms, and if her experiences taught her anything, it was that unknown, secret, armed organisations in war time always equalled trouble. Some German words were exchanged between the members of the group, only serving to make Marilyn more apprehensive – an unknown German group with guns were currently surrounding her, and their words were less than friendly. Suddenly she wished she didn’t know German.  
  
Marilyn weighed her options quickly. She couldn’t pretend to be German or a civilian – she had a medic’s armband wrapped tightly around her bicep, and a splattering of dried blood all down her clothes from her work in the church (and, admittedly, also from the last German camp she had encountered). Even if she hadn’t, the two sets of dog tags around her neck would give her away immediately. She definitely couldn’t fight all of them – one move and they’d riddle her with bullets, and she’d heal immediately and then they’d try to capture her. If she used her abilities much more, she would pass out, she was certain of it. But if she showed them her abilities and then passed out, they’d take her and hopefully be too interested in her to bother with the townspeople. That would keep the town safe, so that’s what she would have to do. She would just have to deal with the consequences later.  
  
“Hello boys, wanna dance?” Almost immediately two shots ran through the air and planted themselves into her chest. The force knocked her off her feet and onto her back, and the men went to move in towards the town before she groaned and rolled over, dragging herself off the ground to stare blankly at the men, who stared back at her in shock. “That was rude, fellas. Don’t ya know how to treat a lady?” The holes in her chest healed before their eyes, leaving only a smear of blood across her shirt and two small holes in the fabric.  
  
The men before her didn’t seem to know what to do, and several German words were shot back and forth quickly (mostly, from what she caught over the pounding in her head, ‘what the hell?’ and ‘what do we do now?’). Just as they unanimously made a decision to raise their guns in an attempt to shoot her down again, a short, round man stepped out from one of the vehicles, stopping the men instantly. This man wasn’t like the others, and wore a tailored black suit with a small red bowtie, and silver spectacles over his eyes. Eccentric blue eyes stared over at her. He was a scientist if she’d ever seen one.  
  
_“Grab her! We can use her.”_ No one seemed to move, until he snapped again. _“Get her and get us back to base, now.”_ That was all Marilyn needed to hear – the townspeople were going to be safe if they took her, and that was good enough for her. She knew that they’d never believe that she came willingly, so her next course of action was to fight back until her powers drained her so much her mind fell into unconsciousness. Possibly not her greatest plan, but an effective one all the same.  
  
Marilyn waited until the men were close enough to grab her, before jerking forward and grabbing two of the men’s shoulders. Almost immediately the two men fell to the floor, unbreathing. It had taken her countless years to fully understand how to use her powers to protect herself, but eventually she’d learnt that her healing abilities went both ways – on one hand, she could heal any illness or injury presented to her, and on the other? She could project any sickness or wound she had ever healed or suffered or studied onto others. The relative newness of this ability to her meant that she could only implement it through contact, and the leather suits the men were wearing meant more energy than she would have liked had to be directed into each one. She wouldn’t last long at this rate, but that was okay. The town would be safe and, at the very least, she would finally get some rest.  
  
The falling of their two comrades worked the men into a frenzy, and they simultaneously jumped her and grabbed at her, trying to subdue her. Each time her hands made contact with the leather of a suit, another man fell to the ground, and she felt herself slipping more. Soon her head was cloudy and she could barely see who she was grabbing; could barely hear the dull thud of a body hitting the ground beneath her. An arm wrapped tight around her throat and her hands whipped up to grasp at it, the now-dead man falling backwards instantly and bringing her down with him. She let it happen. Blackness dotted at her eyes and the world spun around her, and the last thing she saw before drifting off into oblivion was the short round man with a bowtie standing over her, a sick sense of self-righteousness painted across his face.  
  
_“Get her to the base.”_


	3. The Howling Commandos

The Howling Commandos had only officially been a team for a month, but things were going well. Two HYDRA bases had been burnt to the ground in the month they’d been together, and more were surely to follow. Their next target was in France, at a weapons factory around forty miles west of the Maginot Line, but when they’d landed in Paris they’d heard news of German raids in surrounding towns and villages. It admittedly wouldn’t have caught their attention (German raids were the expected norm by this point) if it wasn’t for Jacques Dernier overhearing one drunk Frenchman who swore he had witnessed strange men dressed in all black shoot down an entire village with guns he’d never seen anything like before. Now that had caught their attention.  
  
And that’s how they ended up cramped in the back of an unmarked truck, racing across the French countryside towards the last town on the list they’d managed to pull together with the help of the locals. Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan sat in the driver’s seat, face pulled into a scowl and a demeanour that screamed ‘don’t talk to me’ as his eyes never once left the dirt path he drove on. His mood hadn’t lightened up in the past week they’d been in France. The normally gentle-giant carried the air of a man not to be messed with. Jim Morita sat next to him, equally as sour. Behind them to the left silently sat James Montgomery Falsworth, Gabe Jones and Jacques Dernier, and across from them Bucky Barnes and the infamous Captain America. If the team saw how close the two best friends were sitting, they didn’t mention it. In fact, not one of them said a word.  
  
Every town they’d been to so far had been a slaughter zone – bodies riddled the streets and the houses, and the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh had seemingly burned into their clothes and followed them wherever they went. There had been too many bodies to count, and far too many to give any of them a proper burial. They had been forced to leave them there for a clean-up troop to find later. At this point they were in no mood to talk – they just wanted to find someone alive. Anyone.  
  
Steve and Bucky particularly had been in a bad mood for the past several weeks. It had started before they’d even landed in Paris, back in London. They’d been celebrating their latest HYDRA win at a local bar one night, but the two men had slowly soured over the course of the evening. The team pretended not to see the winces Bucky would show every so often, or the concerned looks Steve would throw him each time. They knew the look on Bucky’s face – hell, everyone did. It wasn’t quite agonizing pain that crossed his features, but something close, as if someone had taken a hot rod and repeatedly prodded him with just the very tip. Everyone knew at least one person who’d been through the same thing. It was the look of someone experiencing pain through an invisible bond tying them to another person, and only one thing was for certain: whoever was Barnes’ soulmate was in trouble. It was a somewhat rare phenomenon, to be able to feel the pain of a soulmate you hadn’t even met before, but it wasn’t unheard of. At one point it may have even been considered a gift, but during times of war it was more of a nightmare.  
  
Bucky knew that the rest of the Commandos knew what was happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This was, admittedly, nowhere near the first time it had happened, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Even when he was a child, the pain that shot down his back when he was least expecting it had haunted him and Steve. Steve’s own words had been etched down his left shoulder blade for as long as he could remember and caused him pain whenever the once scrawny kid would find himself in a fight or sick(often, to say the least), but at least Bucky knew he could always find him and help. With their second soulmate (because they were both convinced that the second set of marks donning both their bodies belonged to the same person), they couldn’t help. They could only hope that their soulmate could remain in one piece until they found her (because, again, they were both convinced their soulmate was a woman, despite what the seemingly never-ending pain might suggest).  
  
The sight of the town on the horizon broke them all out of their thoughts, and the men steeled themselves. This was the last town, and the last hope of finding anyone who had survived the HYDRA raids. Imagine their surprise when they were greeted at the town’s gates by a hoard of seemingly healthy men, all ready to fight, and their even greater surprise when they got out of the truck and looked passed the blockade of men to see a bustling town behind them – they were alive and thriving. There were bullet holes in the gates and blood had stained the ground they stood on a rusty red, so HYDRA had definitely been here, so how were these people alive?  
  
The men in front of the group raised pitchforks and stakes and seemingly any items they could get their hands on to use as weapons, and they were all pointed towards the Commandos. That was until Steve stepped forward, donning the iconic Captain America suit and shield. When they saw the American flag around his stomach, they slowly lowered their weapons, keeping a firm grasp on them just in case.  
  
“You’re American?” It was an older man that spoke the hesitant English, obviously not used to using the language. Grey whiskers sat proudly across his jaw and troubled grey eyes stared back at them.  
  
“Yes sir, I’m Steve Rogers and this is my team. We heard your town was attacked.” The man stared hard at the group before nodding slowly, seemingly having decided he would trust them for now. “Sorry sir, but the other towns we’ve visited have been burnt to the ground. What happened here?” The man didn’t answer for a while, instead turning and gesturing for them to follow him. They ended up in a small house – his, obviously – with the rest of the town’s men gathered outside. The man turned back to Steve.  
  
“She saved us.”  
  
“Who did?” It was Dum Dum who spoke up this time, obviously in disbelief. One person could not save a town.  
  
“She was a nurse, Marilyn. American like you. They took her.” He paused. “You’ve got to save her.”  
  
“Cap, we don’t have time to –” Steve held his hand up to silence Jim, wanting to hear the man out. He knew that they didn’t have time to cut off their mission any more than they already had just to save one nurse, but he also needed to know how one woman could keep an entire town safe from HYDRA. Hell, even the army couldn’t do that.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
“They call me Burk.” Bucky by this point stood at the window, scanning outside for any sight of the enemy, just in case. It also helped him ignore the intense throbbing running down his back as the pain his soulmate was going through seemed to intensify by the minute. Steve shot him a worried look as he grimaced, but turned his attention back to Burk. Mission first, and then he could take care of his soulmate; that’s what they’d agreed.  
  
“Well, Burk, how’d she save you all? The people who raided you aren’t the type of folk to leave people unharmed.” Burk shifted, sitting in the armchair next to the fire before going to speak. He was interrupted before he could.  
  
“You are going to save her, yes?” All eyes turned to the doorway, where a young woman stood, eyes flittering nervously across the men before her. She stood half hidden behind the doorway, as if afraid the men would turn and attack at any second – you could never be too careful in a war, after all. “You must.”  
  
“Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Emilie.”  
  
“She saved my daughter. Please save her!” Emilie looked close to tears, and Steve tried to smile reassuringly as the rest of the Commandos shifted in discomfort behind him. Obviously, they were unused to dealing with crying women. Steve was, too, but he had to try.  
  
“How did she save your daughter?” The woman hesitated, looking towards her father for conformation, and he just nodded.  
  
“She…She had a special… I do not know what it was, but one second my daughter had a broken arm and a fever and the next she was perfectly fine!” Doubt must have crossed the Commando’s features, because Burk now spoke up in agreement before Emilie could so something unladylike out of desperation and get in trouble with the gentlemen. The French weren’t known for their patience, after all.  
  
“It is true, she had an ability of sorts. One of my men had a bullet blast through him and was sure to pass… Ten minutes with Marilyn and there was no bullet hole and he was walking about.” He stopped, sighing. “The men came back to burn the village. She protected us, but they must have took her. They left almost immediately.” Steve suddenly felt an obligation to help. This woman had protected an entire town at the cost of her own freedom, and from what they had told him, she would be of special interest to Zola. One look at Bucky’s concerned face – because he was the only one truly aware of what Zola could do to a person – had his mind made up. They’d find this woman and they’d save her.  
  
“We’re heading to their base. We can look to see if they’ve taken her there.” Burk and Emilie both nodded in gratitude. They owed Marilyn their lives, the least they could do in return was get her help. Steve hesitated, not wanting to say what he knew he had to, and Bucky took notice and decided to take it upon himself to say it. Steve had enough to deal with, he didn’t need to be the one to tell these people that their saviour may already be dead. He could save Steve that guilt.  
  
“Sir, Ma’am, we may already be too late to save her, but we’ll do everythin’ we can do to get her back home.”  
  
And, in war time, that was really all they could promise, and that would have to be enough.


	4. Rescue Party

She was going to kill him. She swore on the good Lord that she was going to kill the stupid little man with the stupid little bow tie as soon as she could get up from this stupid little table that he’d had her strapped to. And as soon as the machines above her stopped trying to drill into her body. And maybe as soon as she could stay conscious for longer than a few minutes at a time. Yeah, she’d kill him then.  
  
Marilyn wasn’t sure how long she’d been here, wherever ‘here’ was, but she was sure it had been weeks. It had been long enough for the man – Zola, he called himself – to realise that the more they hurt her, the slower she healed. Now they were trying to find her breaking point; trying to see if there was a point they could reach that her abilities would never be able to fix. They’d taken so many samples from her that she was no longer needed – they claimed they had all that they would need to recreate her abilities, so now she was just their guinea pig. She was being tested so that they knew the limitations of whatever they were going to use her samples for. And if nothing else, Marilyn had to admit they were creative in their methods at the very least.  
  
They had tried to make her talk, but to no avail. Marilyn knew the most about her own abilities, and knew that they were barking up the entirely wrong tree, and she let them. She knew it was impossible to capture and recreate a mutation – many had tried and failed before, their minds far greater than that of Zola’s. She also knew that her abilities would never reach the point that they were trying to force them to reach – she had been burnt to cinders at the stake and still healed, albeit slowly. Zola thought her decreased healing was due to a limitation in her abilities and that she’d eventually reach a point that she could not heal, but she knew that really it was more that the larger the injury, the longer the process. She’d never tell that to him, though. As long as he was preoccupied with her and his little experiment, he and his cronies would leave that town alone. Maybe it was hard-headed to vehemently be trying to protect a town that she had no real connection to (other than a short 18 hours); but she would heal and they could not. She’d rather be tortured indefinitely knowing that she would heal than be responsible for their deaths. Stubborn was probably the word anyone who knew her would use to describe her best (Victor certainly had called her it more than a few times), and though she’d normally argue against that, it was in situations like this that she couldn’t help but agree. She was always told it would get her into trouble – guess they were right.  
  
“And how are you today, Miss Major?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  
  
“I’m just dandy, thanks for askin’. Bit of a breeze, but what can a gal do?” Just because she had resigned herself to the hands of Zola didn’t mean she couldn’t make his life just that little bit more miserable every time she saw him. His unamused scowl each time she replied with something snarky made it more than worth it, but she knew he was just waiting for the day that she was in too much pain to answer back at all. She’d never give him the satisfaction, of that she was sure. Again, the word ‘stubborn’ crossed her mind.  
  
The scientist, as usual, ignored her and turned to tinker with the consoles behind her. For the next thirty minutes he stood working at the machines, only occasionally looking up to gauge the reaction of the woman on the table. Marilyn made sure to keep her face blank, staring up at the ceiling even as the machines above her suddenly spun faster or dug deeper and her body screamed in protest. She could feel her muscles trying to heal and reconnect even with the tools still embedded inside her, and she could feel as the drills destroyed the newly formed tissue the very next second. Today’s session was particularly dragging on, but maybe that was because winter had officially drawn in and the bitter cold stabbed at her open wounds and at her skin relentlessly.  
  
Eventually the machines slowed and sputtered to a stop, retreating from her body and looming above her. If it weren’t for Zola’s presence behind her, Marilyn would have sighed in relief. Some would have thought that just because she healed, she didn’t hurt. That was possibly the furthest thing from the truth. The normally continuous healing of her body meant that her nerve cells worked above and beyond those of a normal human, so she was hypersensitive to _everything_ – including pain. Back in the early days of the 1900s, she’d helped in a study with a Sir Charles Scott Sherrington to try to further understand the cause of pain (secretly in hopes of understanding why everything hurt so damn much if she would immediately heal after). With his discovery of nociceptors, she suddenly understood that particular set back a lot more – though she still wasn’t happy about it, of course.  
  
Her relief was short-lived as Zola made his way towards her, syringe in hand. This was always the worst part. No matter what physical injury Zola would throw at her, she would always heal and she could always manage to remain conscious, but this ‘serum’ was a different story. Whatever substance was in that syringe was bad news, and her body rejected it painfully and aggressively. Truthfully it was the only part of Zola’s experimentation that scared her, because there was no way to tell if her body had managed to neutralise the attack. Every day she’d fall unconscious, and every day she’d wake up unsure if the serum was still in her body, and unsure if her healing abilities could save her from whatever the intended effects were. She didn’t particularly want to find out.  
  
“Anything you wish to share, Miss Major?” She just scowled up at the man, her body tensing in preparation. The damned man knew how she reacted to whatever was in that dreaded syringe, and he got a sick sense of amusement at the end of each session when he got to administer it. For a long while he’d tried using it to his advantage, had hoped that the promise of no injection that day would get her to spill the secrets about her ability. Eventually it became evident that she would never take such a deal, and so now he just enjoyed the show he got each time. “Ah apparently not. Tomorrow, perhaps?”  
  
Marilyn had no time to respond as he stabbed the needle between her ribs, directly into her heart. Almost immediately her entire body seized on the table, muscles flexing and eyes rolling backwards as the serum flooded through her bloodstream. The woman convulsed against her constraints and several distinct ‘pops’ sounded in the silence from her wrists and ankles as they cracked under the pressure. The metal constraints dug into her ribs and stomach and thighs, tearing at the not-quite-yet-healed wounds from her previous torture. Sweat drenched the woman’s face as her head snapped back, eyes wide, and, like many days before then, the last sight she saw was Zola’s satisfied face staring down at her before she fell into blackness.  
  
~*~  
  
Normally when Marilyn first awoke after the serum there would be two guards with guns watching her from the door and a lingering throbbing pain all over her body left over from the effects of the serum, and even then she would only be awake for a few minutes before exhaustion knocked her out again. So when she woke up to the familiar aching but a distinct lack of guards at the door? She was more than a little suspicious, and more than a little determined not to fall unconscious until she knew what was going on. Suddenly the sound of gunshots managed to reach her over the pounding in her head and the distinct smell of something burning assaulted her nose. It could only mean one thing: someone had raided the base, and someone was intent to burn it to the ground. That was very bad news for her as she laid there strapped to a surgery table. She could only hope that they checked the place for POW before setting it completely ablaze, but why would they? From what she had managed to gather from the few conversations various guards had had when they thought that she was asleep, this was a weapons factory, and definitely not somewhere POW would usually end up. Maybe they’d think to look just in case, but Marilyn was a realist and was already trying to calculate how long it would take her in this state to heal back if she was burnt to a crisp. Too long, is what she decided on, and figured trying to escape before that happened couldn’t do any harm.  
  
Evidently she was wrong, because as soon as she tried to pull out of the constraints a sharp pain rocketed through her body and she couldn’t help but let out a soft groan. Apparently the serum’s effects weren’t quite yet ready to let up, and her eyes started going dizzy and small black dots appeared in the corners of her vision. The Fates were on her side though, it seemed, and her little whimper had caught the attention of a man outside her room. This specific man had been trailing the building in hopes of finding a certain town’s American Nurse Hero, and had been ready to give up hope of finding the woman when he’d heard the noise.  
  
Marilyn couldn’t lie and say her eyes didn’t widen and clear a bit as the blond man made his way into the room. He was tall and handsome and built like a brick shithouse. An American flag wrapped around his stomach and she honestly had never felt so relieved to see the iconic red, white and blue. Maybe if she’d been in her right mind she would have recognised the man’s uniform from all those comics she used to see when she passed through a city, but all she could focus on were the worried blue eyes locked onto hers and the worried frown distorting his pretty face. Vaguely she noted that she didn’t like the look on him, deciding his face should never have to be pulled into that frown again, but the thought was forgotten almost as soon as it had passed as the continuous sounds of gunshots in the background drummed against her skull.  
  
“Miss Major? I’m Captain Steve Rogers, I’m here to help.”  
  
And somewhere in the back of her mind she recognised those words, but the fog taking over her mind wouldn’t let her remember where from, and instead she murmured her reply before falling into unconsciousness once more.  
  
“Well Captain, a lady sure won’t say no to such a pretty offer.”


	5. Meeting

Now and then the Fates had a funny way of working things out. Sometimes you ran into your soulmate the day after you’d given up on ever finding her. Sometimes he turned out to be your tattooist when you went to get your soul mark covered up because you didn’t want your fate decided for you. And sometimes you found her lying half dead and strapped to a surgical table in a burning terrorist base in France only because you’d promised to find a nurse who had sacrificed herself and saved a town that had unknowingly been your soulmate all along. Steve wondered if anything his life would ever be normal.  
  
He wouldn’t have even heard the words if it wasn’t for the serum, and suddenly he thanked God that it had enhanced his senses. If he hadn’t had heard the words he would have had her sent back to London on the next flight to get her back to health and possibly never have seen her again. Instead he’d insisted that he and Bucky fly back too, with the excuse that they’d finished their mission so they were heading back to London anyway, and that someone needed to monitor her. He’d insisted that the rest of the boys should do some sightseeing in Paris before heading back. Bucky hadn’t bought it – he knew Steve had always wanted to visit Paris and he was passing up the opportunity of staying longer – and Steve had just quietly told him that they needed to speak later, in private. It did nothing to appease Bucky’s worry.  
  
That’s how the two of them ended up cramped together in a small jet over the channel, the nurse laid out across the seats in front of them, Steve refusing to let her out of his sight for even a minute. Bucky was studying him intently, one arm draped lazily across the man’s shoulders now that they were alone (because an unconscious woman did not count as company) and the other cradling a glass. Normally Steve would comment on his drinking habit – it had admittedly flared up after he had been rescued from Zola, and Steve worried – but he kept quiet, and that’s how Bucky knew it was serious. “What goin’ on up there, Steve?”  
  
“That’s her, Buck.” Steve’s eyes never left her as he spoke. Bucky shook his head, confused. Of course that was her – that was the whole point of the mission, wasn’t it?  
  
“Yeah, Marilyn Major. Why’d you look like you did that time I dragged you onto the Cyclone at Coney Island? You ain’t sick, are ya?” Steve had told Bucky that it was impossible for him to get sick with the serum, but the man wouldn’t believe it. Out of the two you would never believe that it was Bucky who was the chronic worrier, but with Steve’s track record it really only made sense. The hand that had previously been drawing patterns onto Steve’s shoulder now reached up to lay across the man’s forehead, Bucky’s brow crinkling in concentration as he tried to determine the difference between Steve’s new super soldier heat (new to him, at least; they’d only been back together a month after all) and a possible fever. Steve swatted at his hand and it obediently went back down to his shoulder, resuming its previous drawing.  
  
“No I mean… She said the words, Buck! She said…” Steve seemed lost for words at how to make Bucky understand, but it seemed he didn’t need to because Bucky’s eyes had slowly widened and turned to stare at the woman before them in shock. The glass was placed mindlessly on the hand rest beside him, not trusting himself not to drop it. He hadn’t expected that to be the reason.  
  
“You mean..?”  
  
_“‘Well Captain, a lady sure won’t say no to such a pretty offer.’”_ Steve turned to his lover, grabbing the hand not around his shoulder with both of his. “She said ‘em Buck. That’s her.” And then in a smaller, quieter voice. “She’s ours.” Bucky, for the first time in his life, had no words and could only mindlessly repeat Steve’s own.  
  
“She’s ours…”  
  
The words had been wrapped around Steve’s right forearm for as long as they could remember – his Ma had even said they’d been there when he was born, small and delicate and illegible, but they’d been there. They were words the two of them had dreamt about hearing for years, ever since they’d become legible when Steve turned fifteen. They’d read them and hang to them in the middle of the night whenever Steve got sick – because he would pull through, he had to, because _‘we still have our best girl to find, right Stevie?’_ and Bucky would be curled around him, pressed against Steve’s little back and whispering her words in his ear over and over again – and _God they had finally found her_. And Steve would never admit it, but she had been part of the reason he had wanted to join the army – how would they ever meet their soulmate if he wasn’t a Captain?  
  
A groan from the woman in question brought them both out of their respective thoughts, but she just squirmed in her place for a few seconds before settling again, face turned towards the two men – her two soulmates. She was a pretty little thing with curly red hair, which had been pulled back and tied up in a ponytail behind her – either by her for convenience or by Zola to get it out of the way as he worked, Bucky didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it. Besides all the blood that had covered her and her uniform when Steve had carried her back to base (before the medics had changed her into something and cleaned her up), you couldn’t tell what she had been through. Now she almost looked as if she was just taking a nap on the flight, and Bucky could almost pretend that she was back in their bed in his and Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn. The medics had said that all the wounds Steve had reported weren’t there when they checked her over – in fact, there was nothing to suggest she’d been through anything at all. It fit with what Burk had told them about her – that she had some sort of healing ability – but it was a strange thing to really reconcile in his mind. Whatever it was he was thankful for, though, because it meant she was alive and with them. A thought suddenly occurred to him.  
  
“What if I’m not hers?” It had never really occurred to him that maybe his and Steve’s last soulmate could be two different people, but now seeing her here seemed too unreal. She couldn’t possibly be his.  
  
“Don’t be stupid, Buck.” Steve muttered, leaning against the brunette as the arm around him tightened. “You know the writing matches.” It was true that the handwriting trailing down his right shoulder blade seemed to match the handwriting that wrapped around Steve’s right forearm, but that was just in their opinions. They’d never been to a professional graphologist – not only were they too expensive for the two men to afford on the little amount of money that Bucky managed to scrounge together each month with various odd jobs in the city (because Steve was often too sick to work), but also just the thought of two men sharing a soulmate (let alone actually being soulmates) would probably give most folk a heart attack. Most people nowadays weren’t so accepting of that kind of talk.  
  
“Hey, stop thinking about it.” Steve’s fingers gently turned Bucky’s chin back towards him, blue eyes locking onto his. “She’ll wake up and she’ll say those damn words and you’ll say hers and everythin’ will be fine.” Steve wasn’t as sure as he sounded, but one of them had to be hopeful, and it sure wasn’t going to be Bucky at this rate. He’d just have to be positive enough for the both of them until she woke up.  
  
~*~  
  
When Marilyn did finally wake up, she wasn’t sure what to expect – besides, perhaps, mind-numbing pain, but that never came. For a few minutes she kept her eyes closed, trying to remember what had happened before she fell asleep. Flashes of red, white and blue passed through her mind, and then a blond man with pretty blue eyes, and then finally – wait. Those words, _his_ words. Captain Steve Rogers’ words. And suddenly her eyes snapped open and she’d shot up to a seated position. The bright lights had her eyes clench shut again, but a voice speaking up in the corner had them wrenched open once more – was it possible to get whiplash from that? She was starting to get dizzy.  
  
“Hey there darlin’, take it easy, we don’t want you hurtin’ yourself now.” She could only stare, eyes wide, as the man in front of her spoke the words that had been etched onto her body for the past twenty-seven years. She’d found them – found them both. Or had they found her? She wasn’t really sure. How long had it been anyway? Where was the other one –Steve? Was he gone? Did they even know each other? Why was he here anyway?  
  
Bucky watched silently from his seat in the corner of the hospital room as she continued to stare at him, brows creased at her silence at his words. Was she in shock? Were they not her words? Were they not soulmates? The possibilities seemed to race through his mind with reckless abandon, and suddenly he found himself wishing Steve hadn’t left him to grab them food. Bucky had been worried about her waking up whilst he was gone, because what could he say to her? She was already definitely Steve’s soulmate, she’d said his words, but there was no guarantee she was his and he knew he couldn’t deal with that heartbreak alone if she wasn’t. The blond man had assured him that she probably wouldn’t wake up whilst he was gone, and even if she did that there was nothing to worry about. He’d even laughed because _‘since when did you ever have a problem with a dame, anyway Bucky?’_ After a few minutes of silence he couldn’t help but speak again. “You alright, Ma’am?” It seemed to snap her out of it. Their eyes met across the room.  
  
“All the better for seein’ you here, sugar.” His chest suddenly lightened as if a weight had lifted and he felt like he could breathe again – _thank God_. She was his. Steve took this time to enter the room, eyes widening slightly when he saw Marilyn awake and sat up and staring curiously over at him, before he shot a questioning (and hopeful) look over at Bucky. The man grinned in response, nodding ever so slightly. She was theirs. The two men looked over at Marilyn almost simultaneously, and she was smiling prettily over at the two of them, the dustings of a blush creeping up her neck. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him across the room to stand a few feet away from the girl, their eyes never leaving her bright green ones. Bucky returned the grin easily, now much more confident than he had been only seconds before.  
  
“Looks like we have a lot to talk about, darlin’.”


	6. Friends?

_"Looks like we have a lot to talk about, darlin'."_  
  
As it turns out, they didn’t talk for a couple of days after their first meeting. The second the words had left Bucky’s mouth, a nurse had entered the room and the two men sprang away from each other immediately, Marilyn watching, an unhappy glint in her eye. These two men – her soulmates, she reminded herself – obviously had each other’s words on their bodies as well as hers, but the world wasn’t so accepting of that kind of love, soulmates or not, and they would probably have to hide it from the world for the rest of their lives. Now that she thought about it, they’d probably have to hide their relationship with _her_ as well, if they decided to pursue one. Having two soulmates wasn’t exactly the norm, you see, and folks didn’t like things they didn’t understand. The thought had a frown tugging at her lips.  
  
Upon seeing Marilyn awake, and seemingly upset, the nurse had herded the boys out the door, scolding them all the way for not notifying someone that she was awake, and for apparently upsetting the poor woman. They’d tried to protest, honestly they had, but there really was no arguing with a nurse on a mission. The boys had had enough experience with Steve’s Ma growing up to know that it was a lost cause. Steve had called out a quick “We’ll talk later!” nervously and had scampered away through the door before Marilyn had the chance to disagree – not that she would, but Steve couldn’t know that. He didn’t have all that much experience with the dames, if he was totally honest. Bucky just shook his head at his lover’s antics, shooting the redhead a wink before following him out the door.  
  
The boys had went back the next morning, hoping to catch Marilyn alone, but when they got to her room a doctor had stopped them and told them she hadn’t woken up again since the day before. She was sleeping an awful lot, which would have worried the boys, but Bucky hadn’t winced in pain from their bond all night and had finally managed a full night’s sleep, so they were just glad she wasn’t hurting any more. They’d went to get food and had stopped by the gym after, before showering and heading back for her room, but she wasn’t there. A passing nurse had told them that Marilyn Major had woken up and had been moved into her own private accommodation for her own comfort. The boys couldn’t help but feel agitated – sure, they were thrilled that she’d been considered well enough to leave the clinic, but they wouldn’t believe it until they saw her for themselves – after all, Steve had been the one who had rescued her seemingly dying body from the surgery table, and Bucky had _felt_ everything she’d been put through, and neither man could quite believe she could be healed from that after only a couple of days. They needed to see her.  
  
As the fates would have it, they didn’t even see her again until the next day. They had _just_ decided on grabbing some food before going to ask Peggy if she knew anything, and when they walked through the doors to the mess hall there she was, sat beside the very woman they were just about to go find. Steve figured he should have expected it, really. If the words on their bodies were anything to go by, he would guess that Marilyn was every bit the handful that Peggy was. The two women would get along famously, for sure.  
  
Peggy saw them first, as Marilyn seemed intent on eating her food as fast as possible beside her, and smiled over at the duo. Bucky gave Steve a shove to get him moving, and after a quick glare they made their way over. Bucky cleared his throat as they got to the table, and Marilyn’s eyes flew up to meet his in surprise. He grinned charmingly over at her, before asking, “Hey sugar, are you rationed?” It wasn’t just him flirting, though that was certainly a part of it, but it was his own way of telling her what he wanted the end game for them to be. Not all soulmates ended up together, and sometimes (though rarely) someone would reject their soulmate – this was Bucky’s way of letting her know that they had no plans on doing that to her, and her response would tell him what she wanted from this bond. To her credit, Marilyn seemed to pick up on this and quipped back immediately,  
  
“Not yet, darlin’.” She made a scene of letting her eyes roll down his body slowly, then Steve’s, her grin widening before meeting Bucky’s eyes again. “Savin’ all my sugar for someone sweet.” Her eyes flicked to Steve’s again. “Or two someones, I should say.” Beside her, Peggy watched as Bucky’s grin widened and Steve’s face flushed red, and snickered quietly. She’d read their reports (being one of only a few people that knew about the boys’ relationship and so had access to the reports), and so knew that the woman beside her was the two men’s soulmate, but seeing the boys’ reactions to her was something else. Steve practically lit up whenever her eyes fell on him, and Bucky’s own eyes hadn’t strayed from Marilyn’s for even a second ever since he’d spotted her from across the room.  
  
“I guess I don’t have to introduce you to Steve and Bucky then.”  
  
“Huh? Actually, I don’t think I caught that name…” Marilyn muttered. “Bucky huh?”  
  
“James Buchanan Barnes at your service, Ma’am. But call me Bucky.” He stood up straighter, giving a little salute. It might have looked more impressive if he’d actually been in uniform, but he was still in his gym clothes and they hung from his body, the scruffiness a sharp contrast to the official nature of the salute. Beside him, Steve rolled his eyes, though he was smiling fondly at the man.  
  
“Hmm, really? I quite like Buchanan, actually.” She teased, and Steve snorted as Bucky choked slightly next to him. “I’m just pulling your leg, hon.” Peggy decided it was time for her to give the three soulmates some privacy. From what she’d gathered, they had a lot to talk about. She stood.  
  
“I’m going to go take care of that file for you, Miss Major. If you come by my office later we can continue.”  
  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to call me Peggy, Miss Major?”  
  
“Sure did, miss. But I also remember askin’ you to call me Mari...” She smiled innocently up at Peggy as the woman stood. “So it looks like we’re at a stalemate, Ma’am.” If Peggy had had any doubts that the red headed woman before her was Steve’s last soulmate, she certainly didn’t now. There was only so much sass one person could encompass before they had to be linked to Steve in some way.  
  
“My office, six sharp, Mari.” She started walking away, but Marilyn still called after her.  
  
“Sure thing. I’ll see you there, Peggy.”  
  
Peggy leaving meant that Marilyn was left alone with her two soulmates for only the second time in her life (well, whilst she was conscious). God, _soulmates_. In all her years she never believed she would ever have one, let alone two. She’d lived alone for years, centuries even, before she’d met Logan and Victor. Even then, it had taken years for her to become comfortable around them. And now she was here with her two soulmates and she didn’t know what they expected from her but _God they were so perfect_ , and she was just so unprepared for this. But she wasn’t going to turn them away because she’d promised herself years ago, way back when she still had hope of finding her soulmates, that if she did ever did find them she’d do her darndest to keep them for as long as she could (even if they eventually died and left her behind, heartbroken and lonely, but she’d at least have those memories and she deserved that much, didn’t she?)  
  
“May we?” It was Steve’s voice that broke through her thoughts, and he gestured to the seats opposite her. She nodded and the men sat down, making sure to keep a respectable distance from each other. It was almost heart-breaking how constantly aware they were of each other and the world’s perceptions of their relationship. “So…”  
  
“So…” Marilyn repeated teasingly, a grin returning to her face as Steve flushed prettily. It soon became apparent that neither of the two had any clue how to finish that sentence though because, despite Marilyn hiding behind her humour, she was nervous, and Bucky smiled slightly as he realised this. It was pretty obvious that he was going to be the one who took charge in this relationship, at least until Marilyn came out of her shell, because he could just tell that she was a little fireball underneath all that nervousness. He was more than okay to be the one to take charge until that day came.  
  
“So you’ve really got our words on ya, doll?” His voice was low, quiet enough that maybe if it weren’t for her enhanced hearing she would’ve missed it, but he had to be careful – they weren’t the only people in the mess hall and Steve and he couldn’t afford to be outed, it was too risky. He had to ask though, he needed confirmation. It was rare, but occasionally the Fates played a twisted game and only one person in a couple had the other’s words. He needed to know that she was theirs, and they were hers. She nodded.  
  
“Yes sir, clear as day. I’d show you, but I’ve been told it’s not proper for a lady to undress in polite company.” Her tone was teasing but her eyes were cautious. Marilyn had had a lot of trouble with society’s definition of ‘lady-like’ in the past, and she didn’t know how much that ideal would be present in her soulmates. Would they care? Most fellas don’t want a girl who wears pants probably more than he does, or curses like a sailor whenever something goes wrong. Most fellas want sweet little ladies to stay at home with their kids and smile prettily for company. And that was just not who Marilyn was. Luckily, Bucky seemed to pick up on her hesitancy and smiled reassuringly. _God_ , he was going to have his hands full with the insecurities on these two – not that he could talk, to be fair.  
  
“Ladylike is overrated anyway, darlin’.” Her eyes slid over to Steve’s doubtfully, and the blond finally spoke up. He’d been sat next to Bucky listening quietly up to this point, letting the other man do the talking because he had more experience with the dames. Sure, they’d known they were soulmates since they were kids, but the boys hadn’t wanted to find their last soulmate with no experience on how to treat her. So their relationship had been pretty open, and Bucky had definitely wooed a few dames in his time. Steve, before the serum, hadn’t had so much luck, and even after the serum he didn’t really feel comfortable enough around the ladies to do anything. Women were a new territory for Steve, and he would let Bucky take the lead, but his soulmate was looking at him with wide green eyes and she needed reassurance and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to provide it.  
  
“It is the twentieth century after all, Miss Major. We don’t care.”  
  
“Mari.” She corrected, that grin the boys were slowly becoming used to spreading back across her face, apparently appeased for now. They could both tell it wasn’t the last they’d heard of that particular insecurity, but they’d deal with that when the time came.  
  
“Sorry?”  
  
“Please call me Mari. I mean, if you two can’t call me by my name then who can?”  
  
“Alright, Mari…” Steve tested the name, before deciding to take the leap. “What’d you – I mean – how’d you want to… How’d you want to approach this? Us?” Marilyn ducked her head, picking at her food. They were giving her the dice, giving her the opportunity to back out if she wanted. She was grateful for the gesture, but knew that she didn’t want that, knew that she was probably never going to let them go now that she’d found them, but equally she didn’t want to dive straight into a relationship either. She barely knew the two men before her, soulmates or not. Hell, she’d only learnt Bucky’s name a few minutes before.  
  
“I don’t…” A quick glance up at their faces saw pure panic cross their features and she quickly continued. “No, I mean, I don’t wanna rush into this.” The panic washed off their faces at her words and they almost looked understanding, as if they’d been thinking the same thing. “I mean, I only just met you fellas. We could… We could try bein’ friends first? And if we decide later on we want to try it…” She waved her hand, trying to calm her racing heart. Marilyn had dreamt of meeting her soulmates for years, but she’d never thought that it would actually happen, and she definitely hadn’t planned this far. She could only hope that she wasn’t making a complete fool out of herself.  
  
“We’d like that, yeah.” Bucky answered before straightening in his seat and offering her a hand. She grasped it. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, pleasure to meet you.” He dropped his hand and Steve’s suddenly replaced it.  
  
“Captain Steven Grant Rogers, but call me Steve.” She smiled up at the two men, nodding slightly. She could do this. They were her soulmates and they were here and lovely and charming and _she could do this._  
  
“Marilyn Elizabeth Major, and the pleasure is all mine, fellas.”


	7. Tour Guides

The Fates finally seemed to be playing on their side, because, as it turned out, all three of them had the day free. As soon as they’d realised this, the trio had unanimously decided that they would spend the day together. It would give Steve and Bucky the chance to get to know Marilyn, and, in turn, her them.  
  
The boys took it upon themselves to show Marilyn around the base – it was what Peggy was meant to be doing before she had decided to ditch her. Not that she particularly minded, of course – the more time she spent getting to know her soulmates the better. The boys shared this notion. Steve stood to her left and Bucky to her right as they walked down the corridors of the seemingly never-ending base.  
  
“So… We heard from Burk you have some kind of healing ability.” Marilyn started at the change of topic. They’d just been talking about the boys’ team – the ‘Howling Commandos’ they called themselves – and their recent adventures with the so-called HYDRA terrorist group. Marilyn had heard the name several times whilst she was under Zola’s control, but she had never really known what it was. Any change of topic would have been welcome, in all honesty, because she really wasn’t ready to think about what had happened back in France, but this topic in particular had her interest piqued – though maybe not for the reason Bucky had hoped when he’d brought it up.  
  
“Burk? You met Burk? Is he okay? Is the town okay? What about Annie?” She had worried a lot whilst in the HYDRA factory, had been terrified about what exactly Zola got up to when he wasn’t in the room terrorising her. After the first week or two, she’d only seen the man for an hour a day, when he’d come in to check if she had finally died or to fiddle with the machines, and she had no way to know what he did with himself for the rest of the day. She had, in all honesty, worried that he’d gone back to the town to finish the job, and all her perseverance had been for nothing.  
  
“He’s fine, they’re all fine, thanks to you.” Steve reassured her from her other side, and a little blush fought its way onto her face. Sometimes, with the war, people forgot to thank you. Sometimes folks were too relieved that their partner wasn’t going to die, or too scared from watching her heal a man, to remember that she was the one who had just saved their life. Marilyn couldn’t blame them – hell, there were a lot more important things in wartime to worry about than manners – but it meant she was not used to recognition. She never really asked for it nor wanted it, because helping people was just the right thing to do, wasn’t it? She didn’t believe in getting recognition for doing the right thing. Save that for the real heroes. “We’ve got men on guard there now, no one is getting to them.” There was a pause as Marilyn let that sink in, before Steve hesitantly continued. “So is it true? The healing thing?”  
  
“Huh? Oh, yeah, that… I guess so, yeah, does that bother y’all?” The trio came to a stop before a set of steel double doors, and Marilyn looked up at the men with wide eyes, shuffling her feet beneath her. It was no secret most people didn’t care all that much for ‘defects’ – which was the word non-mutant folk used to describe mutants these days. As if the word mutant itself wasn’t bad enough.  
  
“No Ma’am. I won’t lie and say I didn’t think Burk crazy when he mentioned it, but then I saw you bloodied when you came back with Steve and I could feel how much pain you were in and that was just a few days ago but now you’re right as rain so no, I don’t mind it. Hell, I’m thankful for it, we both are, otherwise I doubt we’d have ever met ya.” The honesty in Bucky’s tone almost made her tear up, but as her mind slowly wrapped around his words, a frown set on her face instead.  
  
“What do ya mean you could feel it?” Bucky looked over her head at Steve quickly in panic – he hadn’t exactly meant to let that slip – but Marilyn was having none of that. “You mean to say you have the tie? You could feel every God-damned thing that was happenin’ to me?” His silence was enough of an answer. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Sweet Lord, Bucky, I must’ve put you through so much. God, I’d have been so much more careful…” Maybe if the boys hadn’t been in the military her blatant blaspheming would have shocked them, but they were, and they didn’t think twice about it. No, what shocked the boys more was the fact that she was more worried about Bucky feeling her own pain than she was about Bucky having the tie. Most people thought that the bond was an invasion of privacy, and even became bitter at their soulmate if they possessed it – not that they could help it, but common sense seemed to be lacking sometimes. And yet here Marilyn was, cursing and steaming at herself for letting herself hurt him – even if she had no way of knowing – rather than being upset at him for invading her privacy. The only other person Bucky knew who had taken to the tie like that was, well, Steve.  
  
“I’m real sorry.”  
  
“Mari, it’s okay, honestly. You gave us a bit of a fright when we were younger, but this punk was sick or getting beat up so much when we were kids that I knew how to handle it.” Marilyn looked at Steve, unconvinced that this hulk of a man even knew the definition of ‘sick’ – not that she did, either, but that was beside the point. Steve looked like he had never been sick a day in his life, and she was sure that there was no way someone could have beaten him up, and Bucky seemed to pick up on that. “Trust me, he hasn’t always been like this. Used to be this little, scrawny-ass kid.” She still looked unconvinced, but decided to trust him on this – what would be the point of lying about that, anyway?  
  
“I’ll take your word for it, but I want an explanation someday.” She warned before turning to the doors they were stood before. “What’s in here then, fellas?” Steve reached over her – _God, she was short_ – and pushed open the door for her. She nodded in thanks, heading in first, the boys trailing behind her. The room before them was large and open – though no windows, they were underground after all – and the entire flooring was padded. Across one side of the room was a row of exercise bikes, and behind them weights. The opposite side of the room held several punching bags hanging from the ceiling, and various types of equipment hung from all four walls. In the middle, two men stood across from each other, both breathing heavily and staring each other down – obviously sparring. There was at least two other rooms leading off from this one, and that made it possibly the biggest gym she’d ever seen.  
  
“From what we’ve gathered over the years, you seem to like getting into trouble, doll. So we thought you’d like to blow off some steam here some time? You can show us what you got.” Bucky teased, but in all honesty he was hoping she’d take him up on it. He wanted to know that she could take care of herself if it came down to it, because she might heal, but that didn’t mean she didn’t hurt. He knew that first-hand.  
  
“I don’t know, Sergeant. Wouldn’t want to whoop you too badly in front of your pals.” She teased cockily, nodding over at the few people dotted across the room. Maybe it would have been believable if her eyes hadn’t lingered a few seconds too long on the strangers, or if her eyes weren’t wary and hardened as they swept the room. It was Steve who noticed the change in the woman first– he’d seen the same look in Bucky after he’d rescued him from Zola. Hell, he still saw it in him whenever they entered a room that was a little too full, or a little too loud, or even a little too dark. He knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed in a day, so instead he reached out and hesitantly grabbed her shoulder, waiting until she tore her eyes away from the room to meet his before he nodded towards the door and gently guided her away. They didn’t say anything, and Bucky followed wordlessly, but it was unanimously decided that they’d avoid busy areas of the base for the rest of the day.  
  
Their plan may have worked if they hadn’t run into a certain dark-haired, self-proclaimed Casanova an hour later. Howard Stark was a one-of-a-kind man, that was for sure, and both Steve and Bucky loved him to bits, but they weren’t sure they liked him meeting Marilyn. Howard fancied himself a bit of a womaniser, and after her experience in the gym, they worried Howard might be a bit much to handle. It turned out there was no reason to worry.  
  
“Marilyn Elizabeth Major! What are you doing in this hole?” Marilyn, to her credit, looked shocked as the man suddenly wrapped his arms around her, before a grin spread across her face and she was hugging him back.  
  
“Howard! What are you doing here?” The two broke apart, each taking a second just to look over the other. Behind her, Steve and Bucky shifted, shooting each other a look. This wasn’t the reaction they had been expecting.  
  
“I work here, darlin’. What about you? Last time I saw you we were in Chicago.” Marilyn had never been one to make a name for herself, but that didn’t mean that she had shied from those that did. Over the years Marilyn had been present for (and the brain behind) some of the most staggering scientific breakthroughs of all-time, and she’d worked with Howard for several months (closer to a year, really) a few years before the war. The project had ended a success, and the two were sworn to secrecy before parting ways. It had been a rocky start (Howard was a flirt and Logan didn’t like it one bit), but as Marilyn started to prove her worth in a lab he’d settled down and started to take her seriously. He was probably one of her closest friends of the twentieth century.  
  
“I got into a bit of trouble now, didn’t I? Steve and Bucky here helped me out.” She jerked her head over to the boys, and Howard nodded in greeting to the two.  
  
“You two know each other?” Steve interrupted hesitantly. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer – Stark’s reputation with women wasn’t the greatest, and he didn’t want to think about just how his soulmate might know the man.  
  
“Huh? Of yeah, I worked with Howard on a project a few years ago.” She explained, waving a hand non-committedly. It eased Steve’s mind somewhat, but he was still on edge.  
  
“This girl is good to have around in a crisis, I’m telling you.” Beside him, Marilyn rolled her eyes.  
  
“It wasn’t a crisis. You shouldn’t have upset him. ”  
  
“He was trying to kill me!”  
  
“Sorry, what?” Steve spluttered, interrupting again, and the two broke out of their conversation long enough to remember that they weren’t alone. Steve was glad that Marilyn had at least one familiar face in the base, and would have been glad that the man had distracted her from wherever her thoughts had gone in the gym if it wasn’t for the slightly worrisome conversation topic.  
  
“ _Mari_ has a homicidal friend.”  
  
“ _Howard_ was an ass and got a little too handsy with me. _Logan_ was protectin’ my honour.” Steve and Bucky shared a look before nodding in agreement and speaking simultaneously.  
  
“Your fault, Stark.”  
  
“Completely your fault.” The smaller man huffed but seemed to otherwise ignore them completely. In all honesty, how could he have known how protective the man was of her? Perhaps by the way he’d threatened to maim him multiple times to keep his hands to himself, but that was beside the point if you asked him.  
  
“Anyway, you here long darlin’?” She could practically feel Steve and Bucky’s eyes burning into the back of her head as they waited for her to answer. They’d been showing her around for several hours now, but they’d never brought the topic of her long-term plans up – mostly because they were afraid to know the answer. Hell, she’d only been awake for a couple of days, she might not know either. As it happens, however, she did, and she smiled back at the boys reassuringly.  
  
“Well, a little birdy told me that a certain group of soldiers have a hard time stayin’ in one piece. She thinks it might do them a world of good to have someone with my… experience… around.” Though all three of the men there with her knew of her abilities, she’d grown to know that the walls had ears and you couldn’t trust anything. You never know who’s listening in on your conversations. Marilyn turned back to Steve and Bucky, a little hesitant. “I wanted to ask this group of fellas before I agreed to anythin’, though. Make sure they want me around.” Steve’s response was immediate, and maybe a little too enthusiastic.  
  
“Of course we want you to join us!” A bright blush covered his cheeks almost as soon as the words left his mouth, and Bucky and Howard snorted at the man. Eager, much?  
  
“‘Course we want you around, Mar. Not about to let you go now, are we doll?” Bucky checked the watch on his wrist, frowning slightly. “Actually, scratch that, I think we’re going to have to let you go for now, darlin’. Ain’t you meant to meet Peggy at eighteen-hundred? It’s five minutes to.” Howard spoke up before she could answer him.  
  
“You’re heading to Peggy’s office, Mari? I’ve gotta drop these off with her.” He wiggled the folders in his hand in front of her face, and if that didn’t take her back to their time working together then she didn’t know what would. “Let me escort you. Don’t want a pretty little thing like you wondering these halls alone do we? And I’m sure Cap and Serge here have some work to attend to.”  
  
“Sure thing, we can catch up on the way over. You can tell me how you ended up in this place.” And then, to Steve and Bucky, “I’ll catch you fellas later, yeah? I couldn’t tell you where to find me, I honestly don’t have a clue. How about I see you at breakfast tomorrow?” They wanted to argue that they could escort her to Peggy’s office, but honestly it only made sense for Howard to show her the way if he was heading there anyway. And they _did_ have work to do – HYDRA didn’t stop just because they’d found their soulmate. There were plans to make. So Bucky just nodded.  
  
“Oh six hundred hours, don’t be late.”  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sergeant.” She winked, stifling a laugh when Steve’s already red face flared up once more. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow then, goodnight fellas.” And with that she turned and looped an arm through Howard’s offered limb, following his lead down the hallway and trusting him to get her to Peggy’s office in time – she didn’t want to make too bad an impression, after all.  
  
“Night Marilyn.”  
  
“Goodnight, doll.”


	8. Peggy & The Future

The duo made it to Peggy’s office without issue, happily chatting the entire way. It really had been far too long since they’d spoken, but war made it difficult to keep in touch with friends on the other side of the world. On the way over Howard had explained how he ended up working at the base (“ _It turned out to be a bomb, but you know, it happens, it was fine._ ”) and Marilyn had explained what had happened back in France (“ _It wasn’t all that bad. I got a lot of sleep at least._ ”). Howard knocked loudly on the office door once before letting himself in, the arm looped around Marilyn’s forcing her with him. Peggy sat behind her desk, a look of mild distaste making its way across her face at the rude entrance, which quickly morphed to surprise when she saw Marilyn arm-in-arm with the offending man.  
  
“Miss Major, I see you’ve met Howard.” She couldn’t help but wonder why Steve and Bucky had left their soulmate alone with the man – she had truthfully been expecting the two men to accompany her to the office, and had hoped to introduce the two when they both got here.  
  
“Oh, Howard and I go way back – met him before the war even started. And I’ve told ya, call me Mari.” She paused. “Or Marilyn. Hell, even call me Lynn. I don’t care, anythin’ but Miss Major.”  
  
“Yes, of course, Marilyn. You say you met Howard before the war?” Peggy’s eyes suddenly dropped warily to their hooked arms, and Marilyn finally understood the question. Howard’s reputation obviously hadn’t improved any since they had worked together. He’d always fancied himself a bit of a ladies’ man, after all.  
  
“Oh, yeah, we worked on a project together back in ’36.” Howard, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, finally spoke up.  
  
“I’ve told you about it before. Chicago? Almost died? National emergency? _The president?_ ” He finally dropped Marilyn’s arm to stalk over and drop the files he was carrying onto Peggy’s desk, shooting the woman a scandalised look. The woman just looked up at him blankly.  
  
“I mostly ignore whatever you say, it’s easier in the long run.” Howard grabbed at his chest as if in distress, ignoring the small ‘me too’ that came from the doorway, before deciding it was time to make his leave.  
  
“I must be going, my friends. I am in high demand, after all.” With one last wink at Peggy he made his way back over to Marilyn, and quickly dropped a peck to her cheek before darting out the door before she could protest. The groan of annoyance he heard from behind him was enough to make him cackle as he walked away. It was something he had started doing after a few weeks of working with the woman, and it had become somewhat of a habit between the two in the months they’d worked together. Marilyn would never admit that she didn’t really mind it – in fact she found it comforting, in a way – but Howard knew that if it had really bothered her Logan would have had his throat in an instant. So the tradition lived on. Though, he supposed, with the information he had just read in that file, perhaps it would have to come to an end. He wasn’t sure how well Steve or Bucky would take to it. Realistically though, that had never stopped him before, and he doubted that it would stop him now.  
  
With Howard gone that left only the two women in the room, and Peggy soon turned to Marilyn with a small grin. One could almost call the look she gave her mischievous. “Chicago then? With the fire and the raid?”  
  
“So you _were_ listening.” Marilyn teased, finally making her way into the room and letting the door fall closed behind her. The office was dimly lit and sparsely decorated, with very few personal touches that Marilyn could see. The very official tone fit Peggy, in a way, but Marilyn would also hazard a guess that there’d be a few personal possessions in the desk drawers if you were brave enough to look. Peggy was obviously a private person, and Marilyn could respect that.  
  
“Howard might be annoying, but his stories are always interesting. I can’t let him know that, of course, it would only encourage him.” The dark haired woman gestured towards the seat in front of her desk, and Marilyn took the hint and sat down, leaving the two women on eye level.  
  
“Very true, ya should never give him the satisfaction.”  
  
“His head might explode.” Peggy agreed, reaching over and grabbing a file from a drawer of her desk. She flipped it open in front of her, and Marilyn could just make out her own face staring up from the paper. “I’ve spoken to Colonel Phillips.”  
  
“Oh?” Marilyn tried to remain nonchalant, but even she could tell that she was doing a rather poor job of it. The Colonel’s decision would dictate whether or not she was separated from Steve and Bucky, and she wasn’t sure that she could handle being parted from them now. Realistically, if they were separated, they would probably never find each other again. Marilyn would end up at another base and help there, possibly even head back to Japan to find Logan (and Victor, she reminded herself), and the boys would continue their work in The Howling Commandos. There was no saying that either of the men would even live through the war, and it was more than likely that they would never see each other again. Realistically, the only way their friendship and possible relationship could continue to grow would be if Marilyn stayed with the Commandos, and the final choice was entirely down to Colonel Phillips, a man she had never even met.  
  
“He likes you, or the idea of you. Either way, he wants you to stay.” If Peggy heard the sigh of relief that left the woman, she politely ignored it. “It probably helped that his soulmate was visiting when I asked him.” Colonel Phillips might seem like a hardened man, but introduce his soulmate and it was like he was a whole other person. It wasn’t just him, of course, having their soulmate around just tends to bring out the best in people. Marilyn wasn’t going to complain.  
  
“Thank the Lord for the power of soulmates, huh?” Peggy decided to go straight to business rather than answer. Soulmates were a touchy subject for her, and she didn’t want to go into it.  
  
“Phillips does, however, want a rundown of your abilities.” Peggy had expected this particular request to hit a sore spot with Marilyn, and watched carefully as Marilyn automatically tensed at her words. Apparently she was right. From what the woman had told her, many people had tried to categorise and abuse her abilities in the past, so Marilyn kept herself out of the limelight. No one knew the true extent of her abilities, no one except Marilyn herself, and the woman obviously had every intention of keeping it that way.  
  
“Is this on the records?”  
  
“It’ll be on my records, and that’s it. Phillips has asked me to act as your senior agent and I am happy to take the job if you accept. I will be the one to assess your abilities, and I decide how we store the information.” Marilyn still didn’t look convinced, and Peggy made up her mind – she would not be the one responsible for scaring off Steve and Bucky’s soulmate, or a potential ally. “Your abilities will be mentioned on your personal file, but any specifics will remain between us and whomever you decide to tell.” She paused before adding, “No records.”  
  
“You’ll just mention it?”  
  
“A sentence at most. It’s best for both of us – you won’t be at risk of being made public and our enemies won’t know to try to get their hands on you to use you against us. Quid pro quo. ” This finally seemed to appease Marilyn, who nodded slowly. She’d done her darndest over the years to remain under the radar, and the thought of being outed had almost made her reconsider this whole agreement. This way both her and the SSR were benefiting, and she still got to stay with her soulmates.  
  
“That… That sounds great, thank you Peggy.” The woman waved it off, stamping a large red ‘approved’ over Marilyn’s file. It was now official – Marilyn Elizabeth Major was a member of The Howling Commandos.  
  
“That’s all I had to talk about tonight. I’ll talk to Steve later about your training, you’ll be on the move a lot so your team will have to train you for the most part, but from what I’ve heard you won’t be needing too much.” From what Peggy could recall from Howard’s retelling of their time working together, and from Marilyn’s own retelling of what happened in France, Peggy could tell that Marilyn could more than take care of herself.  
  
“You don’t live as long as I have without learning to tango.” Peggy had earlier politely decided to ignore the date Marilyn had given as her date of birth, figuring it was best to not ask questions, but that comment had her curious.  
  
“And you’ve lived quite a while, from what I’m told.” Her eyes flicked down to the open file and Marilyn grinned sheepishly, squirming in her chair slightly. Obviously this was a sore spot too.  
  
“Yes, Ma’am. Like I told ya, I heal real fast. From everything.” The implied _‘including old age’_ hung in the air for a while before Peggy nodded, deciding it was an issue for another time, but mentally storing it away for later.  
  
“That’s handy.” That was all Peggy had to say on the matter before she switched topics. “You must be tired, I assume you haven’t had time to rest since I saw you this morning?”  
  
“That’d be a fair assumption, yeah. I’m practically dead on my feet.”  
  
“Off to bed with you, then. I’ll talk to Steve and I’m sure he’ll get back to you himself tomorrow. Now shoo.” Marilyn was ushered up and out the door before she could even think to stop to ask for directions. Perhaps she could have just gone back in to ask Peggy, but what was life without a little adventure? So, with that thought in mind, Marilyn chose a direction and set off down it, hoping she could somehow find her way back to her quarters before morning, or at least run into someone who knew where the heck they were.  
  
Marilyn finally made it back to her quarters at two AM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for tonight! Hope you like it so far x


	9. Business As Usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback last chapter! Lots more Bucky and Steve this chapter, and the other Commandos too! x

True to her word, Marilyn trudged into the mess hall at six AM sharp, despite her late night adventures. It wasn’t hard to find Steve and Bucky – they sat in the exact same places they had the previous day, when they’d interrupted her breakfast with Peggy (not that she minded, of course). She didn’t even bother going to grab food, and just dragged herself over to the chair she had sat in before and dropped unceremoniously into it with a loud groan. It drew a few glances from around the room, but she was too tired to care. The boys watched her curiously as she dropped her head and pressed it to the table beneath her.  
  
“Rough night, doll?” Bucky’s tone was light, but Marilyn could hear the worry laced into voice that he was trying to conceal. It had become quite obvious to her that the Sergeant was a bit of a worrier. It wasn’t something Marilyn was used to (from anyone but Logan, that is), and she found she quite liked it. It was endearing, in a way,  
  
“I got a lil lost now, didn’t I?” She grumbled, rolling her head to the side so she could peek up over her lashes at the two men in front of her. “Didn’t get back to my quarters until past two this mornin’.” Bucky let out a low whistle, but couldn’t quite manage to hide the concern that spread across his features. Steve didn’t even try to hide it, and openly frowned at the woman.  
  
“You should have slept in, Mari. We’d have understood if you didn’t make it.”  
  
“Naw, I couldn’t. I wake up naturally at oh-five-hundred anyhow. Habit from bein’ in the army, I guess.” She sat up now, stretching her arms high above her head before dropping them and grinning. “Besides, couldn’t leave my two best guys waitin’, huh?” And _damn_ , the looks on Bucky and Steve’s faces after she said that made up for any sleep she had lost from coming to meet them so early. Steve’s face flushed bright crimson and his eyes darted around the room before finally falling down to his lap as he ducked his head, avoiding her eyes at all costs in hopes that she somehow wouldn’t see how affected he was at her words – as if that were possible, he was practically _glowing_. Bucky, in contrast, maintained steady eye contact, tilting his head back ever so slightly and not even bothering to hide his widening grin, or the way his eyes softened and his body seemed to relax.  
  
“Possessive, are we?” Bucky teased, though his voice was low and quiet, and he’d had to lean forward onto his elbows towards her to try to make sure she heard it – she’d yet to tell them the extents of her abilities, otherwise he would have known that her enhanced hearing would have picked it up regardless. She didn’t bother telling him now, it was a conversation for another time, and instead frowned at his constant awareness of hiding their bond – both his and Steve’s, and theirs and hers. Even so early in the morning, with only a few other people scattered around the mess hall, he still found the need to be cautious.  
  
Ever since her words appeared, Marilyn knew that if she ever found her soulmates then they’d have to be quiet about their bond – there was a lot of hate out there towards folks with two soulmates, after all – but she had never imagined it would have to be hidden to such an extent. But Steve was America’s golden child – _no way_ could he have two soulmates, and _no way_ could one of them be another man. That would ‘ruin the dream’, apparently. She supposed that was the downside of having _God damn Captain America_ as your soulmate (it had taken her longer than she would like to admit to realise exactly _who_ Steve was. In her defence, she was pretty out of it the first few times they’d met.)  
  
“Very,” she finally replied, nodding slightly almost as an afterthought. The words hung in the air for a few moments, until Steve cleared his throat, finally having managed to wrangle his blush down into a more manageable shade of pink.  
  
“Peggy said you accepted the position?” His voice was nervous, as if just saying it out loud would make her change her mind. She smiled softly over at him, resting her head on her fist to support it as she peered over at him. The man was fascinating, to say the least. She had no doubt that he could hold his own in a battle situation – he _was_ Captain America, after all – but from what she’d seen, put him in any kind of emotional or personal encounter and he was as skittish as a Chihuahua. It was pretty obvious that he was not used to sharing anything with anyone other than with the man sat next to him.  
  
“Sure did, couldn’t say no to such a pretty offer, could I?” Both Steve and Bucky started at the words, making Marilyn frown. It didn’t hit her for a few moments, but when it did she shrugged apologetically. They were her words. Her words on Steve’s body were very similar to the words she’d just spoken. She’d been drugged up on that HYDRA serum when she’d first said them to him and only vaguely remembered saying them (though, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she remembered Steve saying his words just seconds before with perfect clarity), and perhaps it had been an automatic reflex then too. It definitely hadn’t been the first time she’d said a similar phrase, and definitely wouldn’t be the last. She hadn’t considered it a problem, but judging by their reactions she would have to be more careful. “Ah, sorry fellas. I didn’t think.”  
  
Bucky seemed to snap out of it first, throwing her a reassuring smile as he nudged Steve with his shoulder, as if to help him snap out of it– the closest he could get to actually comforting him in public, that is. It seemed to work though, and Steve shook himself before smiling shyly, the blush returning to his face. Bucky grinned. “No problem, doll. Just don’t want anyone listening in, is all.” His voice lowered now, leaning towards her again. “Everything is kept in the files, you never know who knows what.” She nodded in understanding, and he leaned back into his seat. “We’re glad you’re coming with us though, doll.” It was her turn to blush, much to the boys’ delight. It gave Steve the courage to finally speak up again.  
  
“Me and Buck are gonna be in overseeing your training.” He shifted in his chair, eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before falling back to the table. “Is that okay with you?”  
  
“Of course, hon. Is it okay with _you_?” The super soldier didn’t look particularly comfortable, and was squirming around in his chair as if he had ants in his pants. Bucky was frowning at him too, obviously as confused as Marilyn.  
  
“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” She huffed out a breath, letting her eyes scan across the room quickly. The other inhabitants of the room had left, leaving the three soulmates to their own devices, so she whipped her hand out to grab Steve’s where it laid clenched on the table. His head shot up, blue eyes wide as they locked onto her own – maintaining eye contact for possibly the first time since they had met. His hand slowly relaxed under her own, and she nodded in satisfaction before speaking, not removing her hand. She’d been around long enough to know when someone needed physical contact to be reassured, and everything she knew about Steve practically screamed it.  
  
“Darlin’, I’m tellin’ ya: I’m tougher than I look. And if you do manage to hurt me, then it’s fine. I’ll heal right up. No harm done.” Steve didn’t look convinced, and fixed his eyes onto their hands. Her fingers were now unconsciously drawing patterns over his knuckles, a lot softer than how Bucky’s often did (she’d later tell him that her hands couldn’t get calloused, no matter how many guns she’d handled – that her healing factor didn’t allow it).  
  
“Okay, but you’ll tell me? If I hurt you?” Her thumb brushed over his knuckles again once, twice, three times before she squeezed and finally let go of his hand and withdrew her own.  
  
“I’ll tell ya right away, sugar.” Her head jerked to Bucky, who had been quietly listening the entire time, an amused little smile playing at his face. Steve was full of worries and insecurities and Marilyn had picked up on it and handled it exactly as Bucky himself would have (though, admittedly, if they weren’t in public there would have been a hell of a lot more touching). If he had had any doubts that the woman would fit into their little group, then that would have blown them right out of the water. “And Bucky can tell ya if I’m lying, right?”  
  
“I’ll tell ya right away, punk.” Bucky nodded, bumping their shoulders together again. Steve finally seemed to relax and nodded, and Bucky turned back to Marilyn. “The rest of the Commandos got back last night. You up to meeting them, doll?” He was still acutely aware that she’d only had a few hours of sleep – he could practically _feel_ her exhaustion through the tie. She just nodded.  
  
“We can do that, yeah. I’m gonna be savin’ their asses soon enough, so may as well get it over with, right?” Her stomach growled loudly, and she frowned down at it, as if it had offended her, before looking back at the two. They couldn’t quite hide their grins, but she decided to ignore it – for their sakes. “But I gotta grab food first, or else I might keel over on ya.”  
  
“Sure thing, doll, they can wait.”  
  
~*~  
  
Okay, so maybe introducing Marilyn to all of the Commandos at once was a bad idea. She and Jacques Dernier had been arguing back and forth loudly in French for the better part of half an hour, ignoring everyone else around them. Bucky and Steve had thought themselves quite efficient in French from working with the man over the past couple of months, but the duo were talking so quickly it was practically impossible to keep up. The rest of the Commandos just watched in amusement from their seats (the two had stood up in the middle of the room when things had gotten heated, and were in the perfect position to put on a little show).  
  
“You’re impossible!” Marilyn finally yelled, in English. _About God damn time_. “Who in their right mind thinks _liquorice_ is better than _chocolate_?” There was utter silence for a few moments before the rest of the Commandos burst out into laughter, besides Gabriel Jones who had known all along – he’d elected to stay quiet to see how long Marilyn could hold her own against someone as pig-headed as Dernier. Quite a while, it seemed.  
  
“Doll, are you meaning to tell me you’ve been screaming at Dernier here because of his backward-ass taste in candy? I thought you were gonna lunge at the man.” Bucky asked, an eyebrow raised at her, but a grin still plastered across his face. He had been genuinely worried for a while that the two had a history, and that it was going to cause some tension within the team (never even mind between him, Steve and Dernier – as much as he had teased Marilyn about being possessive, he was certainly not one to talk). Marilyn just grinned back at him.  
  
“To be fair, Sergeant,” Jones interrupted. “He was being ridiculous. Chocolate is _far_ superior to liquorice.” He threw a wink over at Marilyn, and almost simultaneously the three soulmates tensed. Bucky could have sworn he heard Steve growl, and proceeded to kick his shin slyly to remind him that _no, they couldn’t give do a damn thing about it._ Even so, he wasn’t sure how they were going to ignore that kind of behaviour towards his soulmate in the future – possessiveness was part of being soulmates, whether they were ‘just friends’ or not, it couldn’t be helped, and it would only get stronger the longer they were around her. Thankfully, Dernier spoke up again before anyone could act on their annoyance – this time, to their relief, in much slower French.  
  
“ _Jones, you traitor!_ ” But there was no bite to his tone, and he sat back down next to the man with an easy grin on his face. He nodded towards Marilyn. “ _I like her._ ” There was a general noise of agreement from the rest of the Commandos – anyone who could hold their own against Dernier was a worthy ally, after all. Dum Dum spoke up next.  
  
“You ain’t too bad, lass, but what are you going to be doing with us? We already have a medic.” His head jerked towards James Morita – or Jim, as he’d introduced himself. The man himself didn’t look too put out by the intrusion to his post, but he was definitely curious, and peered up at the woman in a silent question. Marilyn, for what it was worth, kept her cool remarkably well, but Bucky could feel the panic roll off her in waves. It was a rather new development to their tie (new as in he had only noticed it this morning). Before, he’d only ever been able to feel her when she was in extreme pain or grief, but all day he’d been getting spikes of her emotions trickling through their bond. He still only seemed to get it when the emotions were strong, but it was still more than he’d ever experienced from her. He wasn’t sure if this new connection was just her because of her exhaustion and close physical proximity (well, closer than Japan, at least, which is where Marilyn had told him she had been before France), or if it was the tie starting to solidify properly now that they’d met. He was still young when the tie had fallen into place with Steve, too young to have really paid much attention to its growth, but he suddenly wished he had so that he would know what to expect over the coming weeks. It was a problem for later on, though, because Marilyn’s discomfort was growing and she was squirming in her spot, and he wasn’t having that.  
  
“Mari has a certain skillset that will be helpful.” He supplied, catching the woman’s grateful look and returning it with an easy grin. There was no way the men would believe them without seeing it first-hand, and Mari was nowhere near comfortable enough to talk about her abilities so outright, so it was easiest to leave it up in the air until then. Steve picked up on this.  
  
“You all will probably get to see it soon enough. Until then you’re just going to have to trust us.”  
  
And, of course, because he was Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers, they did.


	10. Near Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I'm sorry for the long wait, exam season has started so updates will be sporadic for the next month or two, but I saw Civil War (no spoilers!) last night and just had to get this chapter finished! Not much Steve at all in this chapter, but LOTS of Bucky and Marilyn. Hope you like it x

Bucky had been hit – of course Bucky had been hit. _Of course_ , on only her second mission as an official Howling Commando, Marilyn would find herself outside a terrorist base miles behind enemy lines with one of her soulmates bleeding out beneath her from a HYDRA scout’s lucky shot to his stomach. She’d been on the other side of the compound when she’d heard Steve yelling for someone to get her over to him ASAP through the comms. Jim had been hovering over him when she’d reached Bucky’s sniper’s nest minutes later, holding down on the entrance wound as firmly as he could, but it was obvious the blood wasn’t stopping. Dum Dum was returning from disposing of a dead HYDRA scout into the woods behind them. To Jim, and to Dum Dum too, it was obvious that Bucky was going to die. But that’s why she was here. They’d have questions, sure, but it’s what she was there for and Bucky would be alive so it was pretty obvious what she had to do.  
  
“I’ve got him, Cap.” She spoke over the comm., nudging Jim out of the way and kneeling beside Bucky in his place. Bucky’s pupils were blown as he looked up at her, the light blue of his irises barely a ring around them. His eyes had previously been hazy, but had seemed to lock onto his soulmate’s as soon as he’d caught sight of her, his lips stretched into what she assumed was meant to be a grin, but ended in a grimace. “He’s gonna be fine.”  
  
“Hey doll, you here to fix me up?” Even with a hole shot through him he was as easy-going as ever, and maybe Marilyn would have instantly quipped something equally as witty back if the sentence hadn’t ended with him coughing and hacking up blood. She knew it was his way of distracting himself though, so forced herself to stay calm and reply in like.  
  
“Sure am, hon. Not gonna let you bleed out like these fools, huh?” She made quick work of cutting through his jacket and shirt and pushing them out the way, only shrugging half apologetically for ruining the fabric. She was saving his life, if he whined about the fabric then she’d kick his ass. He didn’t even seem to notice though, just nodded slowly at her words.  
  
“Damn right.” She pressed her palms firmly over the wound, one atop of the other, ignoring the blood staining her hands, and grit her teeth as Bucky hissed in response. She knew it hurt, but direct contact would make it easier – and faster – to heal, so it was worth the pain now.  
  
“Sorry, hon. It’ll stop hurting real soon.” She frowned down at her hands, concentrating, feeling a familiar tingling in her arms and hands as her hands starting to glow a bright, mint green. She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, and suddenly remembered they weren’t alone, that Jim and Dum Dum were still there. They weren’t making any moves to stop her though, so elected to ignore them as she concentrated on the fibres and cells and tissues she could feel forming underneath her palms. Healing gunshot wounds was second nature to her now, and she probably didn’t need to concentrate as much as she did, but she had to make sure everything healed just fine, because this was _Bucky_ they were talking about – _her soulmate_ – and she’d be damned if she missed even the littlest of things.  
  
Meanwhile, Bucky laid quietly beneath her hands, eyes fixed to where she was pressing down on him with slight awe. Sure, he’d known she could heal – hell, she’d healed herself up pretty fast after they’d found her – but actually seeing the green glow emitting from her, and physically feeling the hole in his body closing underneath her hands, and truly feeling the pain subside the second her hands starting glowing: it was something else entirely. In fact, it felt almost intimate.  
  
Almost a minute passed before the glowing died down, and Marilyn grinned down at him before removing her hands. Bucky could only stare in amazement at the smooth plains of his stomach – no bullet hole in sight. Deep red blood covered the area – a whole damn lot, he noticed absently – and there was an area of his stomach where the blood was smeared thinly and almost non-existent, in the distinct shape of a hand. But there was no bullet hole, and no scar, and he found himself staring up at Marilyn in awe.  
  
“You are somethin’ else, darlin’.” Her grin just widened and she pushed herself to her feet, wiping a bloodied hand down her pants’ leg before holding it down to him and heaving him up once he grabbed it.  
  
“So I’m told.” The duo turned towards Dum Dum and Jim, who stood there with their jaws hanging open in disbelief, because Bucky was about to die, and then Marilyn turned up and her hands _freaking glowed_ and suddenly he was right as rain. She smiled warily over at them. “Like Steve said, I have a special skillset, fellas.” She’d expected them to ask more, and maybe they were going to, but distinct gunshots could be heard in the background and Steve’s voice was yelling for reinforcements down the comm. and the boys’ heads shot in that direction. “You two need to go help Steve, though. Buck, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and I’m gonna try and fix that but we’re gonna be on the move and I’m gonna have to keep in contact with ya.” She raised their joined hands for him to see, because neither had even thought of letting go since she’d helped him up. “Gotta get you back to base, hon.” He went to argue, but one stern look from her and he shut his mouth. He just knew that this was a battle he wasn’t going to win, and besides, having an excuse to hold his still ‘currently platonic’ soulmate’s hand in public? Definitely not the worst thing that had happened.  
  
Dum Dum and Jim left without much of an argument, calling down their comms to report that Bucky was fine but needed to head back to base, and also that they wanted a full explanation once they got back. Marilyn supposed she owed them that much – after all, she’d given them that little show without so much as explaining a thing.  
  
Bucky’s grip on her hand tightened, his fingers moving to intertwine with hers and suddenly she remembered what she was supposed to be doing (because apparently, just touching Bucky was distracting to her) and a small green light emitted from between their clasped palms. He just grinned down at her in return.  
  
“Lead the way, darlin’.”  
  
~*~  
  
Sneaking Bucky back to their base was harder than they’d expected – apparently a tall man with his clothes torn open and covered in blood, and a much smaller woman also covered in blood walking hand-in-hand down country roads caught a lot of attention. They tried to stick to the backroads as much as possible, all the while cursing Steve for picking such a central location as a base, even if his logic was sound ( _‘a house in the middle of town is less likely to be raided looking for American spies than an old shack in the middle of nowhere_ ’).  
  
When they eventually reached the house, Marilyn seemed to realise she was still holding Bucky’s hand and dropped it like it was hot. She’d finished replenishing his blood supply at least twenty minutes prior, so why exactly had neither of them thought to let go? Logically, Marilyn knew exactly why, though she didn’t particularly want to admit it. It was the bond. After finding each other, the bond linking soulmates together solidifies and practically requires physical contact to thrive. Ever since they’d found each other three months ago, Steve, Bucky and Marilyn had kept a distance between them that was unusual for soulmates, and the bond was sensing that and, in a sense, struggling to rectify it. Logically, Marilyn knew that if they were to continue, things would only get more difficult. The bond would grow stronger and start testing their resolves even more. Eventually, the bond would have to be consummated or rejected.  
  
“You wanna clean yourself up first, doll?” Bucky’s voice broke her from her thoughts, and she watched as he jerked his head towards the only washroom in the place. She desperately wanted to wash up, but one look down Bucky’s bloodied torso and uniform and her mind was set.  
  
“Naw, you need it more than I do hon, go scrub yourself down.” He hesitated for a second before nodding, peeling off his ruined jacket and shirt as he made his way to the room, throwing them effortlessly in the rubbish bin on his way. Marilyn’s eyes strayed over his bare back almost automatically, landing on the black marks written in a familiar hand running down his right shoulder blade. _‘All the better for seein’ you here, sugar.’_ A red blush raced its way up her neck, because _of course_ those were her first words to her soulmate. Logan always said she flirted too much. Her eyes managed to stray away from her words on his back long enough to find the other set that ran down his opposite shoulder blade. The writing was larger than hers and less loopy and she’d only ever seen it running down her own ribcage, but there it was, clear as day – _‘Come on, jerk, I had him on the ropes.’_ She giggled before clamping a hand over her mouth, shocked that she’d just made such a noise, and Bucky turned to her, confused, though a small grin spread across his face because he’d be damned if that wasn’t the cutest God damn sound he’d ever heard.  
  
“What’s so funny?” She gestured vaguely with her other hand towards him, shaking her head and removing the hand from her mouth.  
  
“Just saw Steve’s words.” And Bucky’s grin could only widen because yes, the words on his back were ridiculous – both sets were – and his soulmates were punks but he honestly couldn’t care less because the words were just so _them_.  
  
“He’s pretty ridiculous, huh?” Her eyes locked to his resolutely, refusing to let herself look down because she was _not_ going to be admiring his half naked body when he was covered in his own God damn blood, even if he had been healed.  
  
“Pretty daring… And ridiculous, yeah.” She agreed, before making shooing motions with her hands. “Now go, before you get blood everywhere.” With one last look, he disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Bucky emerged from the room twenty minutes later to find Marilyn stood in the middle of the room, one hand on her ear and one on her hip, listening intently to whoever was on the other end of the comm.  
  
“Sure, we’ll see you then, hon.” She turned, unsurprised to find the man behind her and winked in greeting. “Bucky’s out now, ya wanna talk to him?” A pause. “Right, I’ll tell him. I gotta go wash though, darlin’, before I get blood everywhere. See ya soon.” Marilyn removed the device from her ear and dropped it on the drawer beside her, sidling up in front of Bucky with a wide grin that he couldn’t help but mirror.  
  
“That Steve?”  
  
“Yep, he says they’ll be back in an hour or so, just cleanin’ out the rest of the base for anymore files.” She bumped her hip to his as she made her way past him to the bathroom door. “Also says you’re a jerk, but I’m pretty sure that’s Steve-talk for sayin’ he was worried about ya.” Bucky could only laugh and nod, because that sounded about right. Marilyn stopped in the doorframe, turning back to look at him, a small frown tugging at her features that had him moving towards her.  
  
“What’s wrong, doll?” He’d stopped directly in front of her.  
  
“I was worried.” She admitted, shrugging slightly. Unlike Steve, Marilyn was open with what she was thinking, and Bucky was at least glad for that. He couldn’t be guessing what they were both thinking all the time. “When Steve yelled down the line sayin’ you were hit. I was so far away, on the opposite side with Jones and Dernier. Didn’t know if I was gonna make it in time.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Don’t think I’ve ran that fast in a long while.” Bucky could very well feel his heart crumble at her words.  
  
“Darlin’, don’t worry about it. You made it there and you were flawless and you damn well saved my life.” His hand reached up to cup her face, acutely aware of how her wide eyes jumped instantly to his and her breath hitched slightly in her throat. Maybe it was the proximity, or maybe it was how well her body was reacting to his touch, or maybe it was the sea of emotion he could feel pouring through their tie, but whatever it was caused him to bend his neck down, pressing his lips firmly against her own for the first time.  
  
A few tense moments passed, and Bucky almost pulled back as he realised he may have made a mistake, before she finally started to respond. Almost as soon as he felt the soft pressure of her lips moving back against his start to intensify, start to get more confident in their actions, Bucky pulled away, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he looked down at her flushed one.  
  
“You need to wash up, darlin’.” And with that, he pushed her gently through the door, her mind too preoccupied to fight him. “We can continue when you’re not covered in my blood.” He definitely planned to keep that promise, but perhaps not in the middle of Nazi Germany, and perhaps not after he’d nearly died, and perhaps, even, with Steve there too.  
  
She was going to be theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter!


	11. Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, my exams had to take priority, but exams are over now and I'm now free until university starts at the end of September so updates should becomes more regular again! Not much Steve/Bucky/Marilyn action in this chapter, but it was necessary for the story, and I'm kind of still getting back into the swing of writing after that break for exams.
> 
> Hope you like the chapter anyway! x

Marilyn spent far longer than was necessary washing up, but just the thought of going out into the main room and facing Bucky sent her mind reeling. This was admittedly _not_ how she thought the day was going to go. It was meant to be a cut-and-dry mission – get in, retrieve the files, burn the place down and get out. Instead, an entire compound of HYDRA soldiers greeted them at the door, Bucky got shot, she only just got there in time to save him, and then he went and God damn _kissed_ her before she’d even had the chance to wash his God damn blood off of her God damn hands.  
  
It was bound to happen eventually. Logically she knew that. They could only ignore the bond for so long before things would have had to escalate. It’s not like she wasn’t ready for it – or that she hadn’t been ready for it for several weeks already – it was just… unexpected. She’d always figured that when they were ready to move their relationship into something more than what they already had, then it would come after a lengthy talk between the three of them and they’d be back at their base in London so that they’d have time to work through everything, not just a spur of the moment thing after a mission gone south. She had expected Steve to want to talk everything through and insist on taking everything nice and slow, whilst Bucky would want to jump straight into it because he’s all-or-nothing about everything in his life. They’d probably find a nice compromise in between that all of them could be happy with.  
  
God, _Steve_.  
  
Steve wasn’t even there – wasn’t even close by. Steve was still in the middle a HYDRA camp, actually _doing his damn job_ , and was most certainly not making out with their ‘platonic’ soulmate like some lovesick teenager in the middle of their make-shift base camp. How would _he_ feel about this? Was he even ready to move past anything but a friendship? Did he even _want_ to now that he’d spent several months with her and knew what she was really like? Would he be upset that they had taken that step without him?  
  
A door hitting the wall in the main room caught Marilyn’s attention and finally brought her back to the present, followed by Dernier’s loud voice proclaiming the mission a success and that drinks were in order (and Jones immediately telling him to _keep it down, for God’s sake – we’re at war, man_ ). With a sigh, Marilyn finally finished drying her hands before making her way out of the washroom – the boys would need to clean themselves up, and some may need medical attention, and there was no way she’d shirk on her duties or make them stew in their own filth in their combat clothes just because she didn’t want to face her soulmates. No, she was a grown woman and a well-respected nurse in the American army, and she was going to act like one.  
  
Her eyes immediately fell on Steve. His jacket was torn and the sleeve was practically hanging off, but there was no blood, and his face showed no signs of pain (instead it sported a look of concern aimed over at where Bucky was sat on one of the mattresses, though Marilyn decidedly kept her eyes on the Captain). Marilyn almost chided herself for automatically checking over Steve first when he was practically a super soldier and the other Commandos were only human, but quickly made up for it and scanned the rest of the team for injuries. Besides the usual scrapes and bruises, and a rather nasty cut across Falsworth’s temple, there was nothing to see or to worry about, and they’d all be good as new within a few weeks.  
  
With her checks done, Marilyn was left with nothing to do other than let her eyes wander over to where Bucky sat. He was staring intently at Steve, as if trying to convey some secret message that only the two of them could decode (though Marilyn bet she could hazard a guess as to what the message entailed). He suddenly looked over at her when he felt her eyes on him, and quirked his eyebrow in a silent question. A small grin played at his lips – it was nothing like his normal smiles at her, though. This one was hesitant, and much more like one Steve would shoot her back when they’d first met and he thought he’d crossed some sort of line. She couldn’t help but smile back, throwing a little nod his way and then towards Steve to indicate that they needed to talk, and getting a simple nod back in return. Bucky was just thinking up an excuse to get the three of them alone when Dum Dum spoke up and put his plans on hold.  
  
“What the hell was that, girl?” Marilyn startled, her eyes whipping up from Bucky’s to meet the man’s, thinking their little exchange had been caught.  
  
“Huh, what?” She was stalling, but honestly she had no excuse to give him.  
  
“What?” He huffed, walking up in front of her until he was barely a foot away and gesturing wildly around. He didn’t sound angry, more in awe, and Marilyn could only frown up at him in hopes of an explanation. “Back there! What was that back at the compound? You have some talkin’ to do.”  
  
_Oh._  
  
After everything that had happened after leaving the HYDRA compound between Bucky and her, Marilyn had honestly forgotten the little show she had given Dum Dum and Jim back in Bucky’s sniper’s nest. With a quick glance around, Marilyn noticed the rest of the team looking on with apprehension (aside from Steve and Bucky, who could only wince sympathetically at her situation) and she figured that the Dum Dum and Jim had informed the rest of them of her ‘power’ on the way back to base. There was no way of getting out of explaining that one, and in all honesty she didn’t want to – this was her team and they deserved to know. It looked like her talk with her soulmates was going to have to wait.  
  
“Oh, right, okay. Could ya…” She made a small shooing motion with her hands, and Dum Dum frowned but backed up regardless to give her some space. She took another quick look around the room, before her eyes landed back on Dum Dum. “You remember back when I first met y’all, and Steve told ya I had a certain skillset that would come in useful?” A few scattered nods and grunts were her acknowledgement, so she took it as a positive and soldiered on. “Well, I heal. I heal myself, I heal other people. That’s what I do. You saw it, and I hope ya never have to see it again, but we’re in a war so that ain’t likely.” She brought her hands up in front of her, showing her palms to the men. They could only watch in fascination as a small mint green light appeared in her palms, before quickly sizzling out as she dropped her hands.  
  
“You’re one of them, then? Those ‘defects’ that keep showing up in the newspapers?” Falsworth was the one to break the silence, and Marilyn bristled at the wording. Defect was not a term very much liked in the mutant community. Steve and Bucky both seemed to notice, because both were on their feet in a second, but a quick head shake got them to stay in place. It was a common enough term, and Falsworth didn’t know. She was flattered that they were so protective, though.  
  
“We prefer ‘mutants’. Or literally anythin’ other than that.” Falsworth nodded and at least had the decency to look apologetic, obviously getting the hint that his comment had hit a sore spot. She’d let it go this time, because he didn’t know, but if there was a next time she’d give him hell to pay (and, she was sure, so would Steve and Bucky). “Okay, any questions? I ain’t gonna talk about this again so y’all better air your grievances now or forever hold your peace.”  
  
“Were you born with it?” Jones was the first to break the silence.  
  
“Yes sir, my family started noticing it when I was still crawlin’. Or so they told me.” She shifted slightly in place, trying to work out what information from her vast knowledge of mutants they should know to help explain everything more. “You’re born with it, but most folk don’t know about it until they go through some sort of trigger.”  
  
“Trigger?” Steve asked, now also interested. Whilst they had spoken at length about Marilyn’s own abilities, she rarely spoke about mutation and the mutant community as a whole. There was a whole population of people like Marilyn, whose lives he knew nothing about, and he wanted to know more.  
  
“Yeah, hon, a stressful situation. My friend saw his daddy’s murder when he was little, and that triggered his.” She paused for a second, thinking. “Could be anythin’. Stress, danger, hunger. If your body thinks it’s in danger, it can trigger.”  
  
“What can you heal, exactly?” Jim asked, and everyone nodded in agreement.  
  
“Most things. If I can tell ya what the problem is, I can fix it. Some stuff is easier than others – like gunshot wounds.” She shot a quick glance at Bucky, who only grinned in response. “They’re standard, easy to fix if they ain’t gone and hit nothing important. Diseases are harder, sometimes no one knows what causes it. If I can’t tell what I need to fix, then I can’t fix it.” She paused again, looking around the room, trying to think of anymore limitations that they should know of. One hit her and her face soured – this was something that at least some of them were definitely going to need in the future, and she couldn’t provide it. “I can’t do brain stuff. If you have a bullet hole in it, or a knife, sure, I can fix that. But I can’t fix shell shock, and I can’t fix any demons y’all might have up in there.”  
  
“Why’s that?” Jim pressed. From a medical standpoint, Marilyn’s mutation was a goldmine and his medic side couldn’t quite believe it. His soldier side was more than a little disappointed that she couldn’t fix their brains, because they’d sure as hell need it after this war, but he’d take what he could get.  
  
“Too intricate and too messy. None of the mess in anyone’s brains is ever clear cut. There ain’t ever a single cause so I can’t fix it. A lot of the time there’s nothin’ wrong with the actual brain itself, just the chemistry, it’s invisible so I can’t fix it.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’ve tried.”  
  
“Do you need to be touchin’?” Dum Dum asked, nodding over to Bucky. “You put your hands on ‘im earlier.” If there weren’t so many eyes on her she would’ve have blushed, because yes, she _definitely_ had her hands on him earlier, though maybe not in the way Dum Dum was asking. As it was, Bucky was already grinning wildly over at her, something only she and Steve had seemed to pick up, and Steve seemed to have figured something out because he was suddenly grinning over at her too. _God_ , they really needed to talk.  
  
“Touchin’ makes it easier an’ wastes less energy. And if I’m moving then it’s way easier to focus on what I’m doing if I’m touchin’ the person.” She looked over at Falsworth, and the cut large gash across his temple, and nodded at him. “But I don’t need to.” Suddenly the same light green that shone in her hands earlier was forming around the cut on his head, and seconds later it died out and no cut was there to be seen – the only evidence that it ever existed being the blood dried to his skin. “As so.”  
  
“That was…”  
  
“ _Fantastic!_ ” Dernier cheered, leaping to his feet from where he’d sat on a mattress. “ _You are amazing, my dear!_ ” There was a general noise of agreement from the room, and Marilyn swore she was floating. She’d expected some form of resistance or resentment, but her team seemed to accept her as she was. Still, she had to check.  
  
“You don’t mind then?”  
  
“Dear, it is a gift! And you saved Barnes today, and will no doubt save us in the future. I, for one, welcome it!” Falsworth announced, gently prodding at where his cut once was, and the rest of the Commandos quickly added their own acknowledgements.  
  
“Okay, good, great, because you fellas need someone to look out for ya. You guys are a mess.” Almost collectively the boys went to disagree, but a single hand up had them stop. “No, go clean up, I don’t want blood everywhere. I gotta talk with Buck and Steve.” Before any of them could disagree she’d left the room, leaving her two boys to look at each other before trailing after her hopelessly, and leaving the rest of the team in confusion. They would have to deal with it.  
  
She and her soulmates needed to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters are posted over at ff.net ([here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7564007/))
> 
> Check out my tumblr for updates on writing/stories: [shanniepatz](http://shanniepatz.tumblr.com/) *
> 
> *I wrote some stand alone pieces with Steve/Bucky/Marilyn over on my tumblr, so check it out if you want! It's kind of AU, in that it won't actually be included in the story, but the characters are exactly the same


End file.
